The War
by 50whiskey
Summary: A war breaks out on U.S. soil. Some fight and other take a different route. AU Fic
1. Chapter 1

The War

**Authors Note: **I figured I should explain how this story is going to work before you start reading it. This is a future AU fic. I have no idea how long it will be, but there will be a lot of pairings and single points of View. Brittany and Santana are the main characters in the story; however this is mostly about the kids of Glee in general. It will start in what would be the third season of Glee, then a few years later. The back story is, World War III has broken out and the kids of Glee get split up to lead different rolls. The Russian and the Chinese join forces to take over the U.S. They almost succeed but a resistance group forms and that's where some of the glee kids end up. The other half of the Glee kids end up somewhere totally different. Fate brings them together. This story is my first M rating because I couldn't accomplish what I wanted with my normal ratings. The list of things will be in the story.

Prostitution

Murder

Rape

Death of Characters

Racism

Suicide

Drinking and Drug use

Language and Consensual sex

Homosexuality

Also I should note that there will be a lot of personality changes in many of the characters. I'm going to test my writing chops to see if I can't make them seem like the same and different at the same time. I truly do appreciate reviews. I become greatly discouraged if I don't get many. I know it's petty and trivial because a lot of people don't review. However, I'm all for PM's with ideas. I might not use them but they spur ideas for the stories. Thanks peeps! PS no beta. Please forgive… well my lack of skill with the English language.

The War

Chapter 1

The bullets impacting against the broken wall they ducked behind for cover erupted small bits of debris. Brittany closed her eyes tightly. Sam crouching besides her did the exact same thing. They were pinned down. Luckily neither of them had been hit as they sprinted across the open battle field.

"I really hate being the decoy." Sam said factually as another spray of bullets tore away at the broken wall.

"Could be worse." Brittany said as she did a quick peek around the wall. There was another spray of bullets.

"Really? How so?"

"You could be in there with the coach."

"Good point. So how do we get ourselves out of this one? The Charleston?" Sam ducked his head down as more bits of stone and wood flew around them.

"I was thinking The Itsy Bitsy." Brittany said as she lifted up her riffle and with out looking did a quick sweep of bullets.

"It could work. Who's gonna drop the bomb on them though?"

"Rock, Paper Scissors?" Brittany asked.

Sam met Brittany's intense glare. They both pounded their fist three times before making a Rock and Paper. Brittany rolled her eyes.

"Shit." Brittany said as she tightened her ponytail. Sam smiled a big cheesy smile then handed her the bag.

"Don't let me get shot." She said as she scooted a way from the wall.

"Never."

Brittany strapped the small bag to her back staying low, waiting for Sam to start laying down cover fire.

The small Chinese force was some 20 yards away setting under an abandoned building. It was perfect for the Itsy Bitsy.

Sam was the Water Spout, Brittany was the rain and the Chinese were the Spider.

"Washed the spiders out." Brittany quietly sang to her self as she quickly moved from building to building.

She agreed with Sam about being the decoy. It sucked. You were a needed part of the team, but you were always out numbered and out gunned. The back up you need, only coming to the rescue when their mission was complete. Still, even after that you had to fight your way out. It was always a good possibility that the decoys didn't make it out alive.

She was a good decoy, so was Sam. They had lived through over eighty decoy missions. To talk about it was bad luck, but they were good at it because they though alike and kept one thing in mind.

"Decoys don't stay. They run."

Brittany had managed to creep her way to just above the Chinese. She looked across the street and saw Sam's gun spitting out fire from the barrel. She looked down at the seven un-suspecting soldiers. Brittany always felt bad for the guys when she did this. Sam told her it was a good sign. That she was still human. Brittany thought that silly. They're all human.

She held the bag above the soldiers after flipping the switch and let it go. The bag dropped about three stories landing behind them.

They saw they bag that said C-4. They saw the red light. They looked up and saw Brittany. Then they jumped from their cover, trying to scatter before the explosion. This is where Brittany felt bad for them. They had no clue what was going to happen. She raised her riffle and fired.

Sam and Brittany made short work of them. The butt of the gun was pounding angrily against her shoulder, her body shaking from the vibrations and kick back of the gun. She loved her gun. She loved that it had never jammed on her. When it ran out of bullets it made a great club. Today though, today her gun shot the bullets, the fire, and the hell that was war.

Their bodies shaking violently as the bullets passed through the bodies throwing blood and human flesh as they went. One of the soldiers was shot in the head, his skull nearly vaporizing as the bullet pasted. Another's knee cap was missing though the holes in his chest would kill him far quicker. This is why Brittany didn't like the Itsy Bitsy. This is why she felt bad. Seven dead Chinese soldiers littered the ground.

"And washed the spiders out." Brittany solemnly sang to herself again. Then took a deep breath and sighed.

"My what ever God's you believe in keep you in their care." She said as she looked at the soldiers lying dead below her. That was her atonement for what she had done. That was her way of keeping her self sane. The men and women she had killed were part of a family. One that didn't want there sons or daughters, mothers and fathers killed. This was just part of life and Brittany respected life. It took her a long time to figure it out, but she did. She would pray to her God tonight to allow them in to Heaven and to give their family the strength to forgive her for what she had to do. She would also pray that it would be their laughter and good parts of them that would be remembered. Just as she hopped when she died the same would be done for her. She wasn't a killer. She was a solider and soldiers did things they didn't always want to do.

She saw Sam sprint across the street and jump in to what was the strong hold of the enemy. She ran down the stairs gun at the ready to fire at anyone who jumped out at her.

She ran from the building and slid next to Sam, who handed her the bag. She flipped the switch turning off the red light and pulled out a couple of granola bars.

"Think they got the bomb's set?" Brittany asked as she bit down on the bar. Suddenly there was a loud explosion and a large fire ball rising in to the air.

"Yep." Sam said as they high fived each other and made their way to the extraction point.

As they approached the helicopter seeing the rest of the team inside waiting from them Sam looked back and yelled at Brittany over the chomping of the blades above their heads.

"Kurt certainly as a flare for the dramatic." As he nodded his head back towards what was a Chinese communication tower. Another explosion went off followed by another.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: **Thank you for the review. In this chapter you will see where the other half of New Directions ended up and how they are surviving. I don't own Glee, nor do I share any of the things that I will write out in the story. PS. No beta, please forgive my mistakes.

Chapter 2

Dancing with the Enemy

Santana stood perfectly still. The spot light shining down on her was hot. To the point it seemed like it was going to burn her flesh. She was scared too. She wanted to cry but couldn't. She hated for them to see her cry. Those fucking commie bastards, that always smelled of vodka, cheap cologne and smoke. Those dick heads that she watched march in to Lima, Ohio and take everything her family had worked for. Watched them scatter the town like seeds in the wind. She watched her school burn, she watched her father get hauled away. She watched Brittany run after the bus she was on. She watched the little pricked Russian slam the ass end of his gun in to the innocent blond's stomach. She hated the Russians, she hated them with a passion, but she hated her self more.

She had gotten caught behind _their_ lines, which was at the time just a small section of the United States. She wasn't strong enough to fight them, and now here she was looking down with her eyes closed from the blinding spot light. The torture was going to come soon. She knew that. It was every night that the torture would come. Except for on Tuesday, she wasn't tortured on Tuesday.

Some where, some one spoke smoothly, sultry, her stomach gave a small turn. She had come to love that voice. This made her all the more sick to her stomach when she had thought about it. She didn't love anyone. She didn't need anyone. Still, she needed him. She had read about this kind of thing on Tuesday's. It was called Stockholm syndrome.

"Santana Lopez." The voice cooed out. There were some sounds that came with her name being spoken. She had learned to block those out. She had learned to hear only what she needed too. All she had to do was give them the information that they wanted and "deserved."

Then the thumping started. The rhythmic bass of the coming of torture, the disgusting maggots roughly placing their hands on her, bruising her with the disgusting blood covered hands. Commie Fucks.

The thumping continued, once soothing to her now made her want to let out a battle cry. Attack the torturer; rip his fucking eyes from his socket. The thumping was going to continue for a while, but still it didn't help matters much. She could count down when the pain would begin. Yet she wished they would turn off that damn spot light. How the hell could Rachael love the spot light so much? How could she deal with it, how could she want it so badly, how could Rachael have done this? Then the pain, agony and self loathing began.

"_Never know how much I love you._

_Never know how much I care._

"_When you put your arms around me I get a fever that's so hard to bear, _

_You give me fever."_

This had become second nature to her now. Not so much the song which use to be one of her favorites. It was, once upon a time, good for getting boys to do what you wanted. That was it; she had gotten use to the pain that came with every seductive sultry move she made. She had gotten use to the sequences dresses, bright red lip stick and overly curled hair. The classic look as it was so nostalgically called. Making the seductive eyes at some young Russian soldier, or sailor, but those weren't her targets audience; they weren't the ones that tortured her. No, she needed the officers. The ones that sat in back watching. Those sick disgusting fucks that order hundreds of thousands to their deaths.

"_Fever when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight. Fever!_

_In the morning, fever all through the night."_

She used her finger to entice some young Russian boy out of his chair, using her lips as she sang to "insinuate" something. She pulled him close to her. The smell of vodka and cigarettes wanted to make her throw up on his baby face. The little creep probably didn't understand a damn word she was singing. He just wanted to grab her tits. She had seen that look in men's eyes before. They're nasty perverts all of them. All of them.

"_Sun lights up the day time, moon lights up the night. I light up when you call my name because you know I'm gonna treat you right. You give me fever._

She pushed the little Russian boy back in his chair playfully and then as she passed him snaking her fingers through his hair. Three of his friends yelled playfully as they mocked him. She continued to sing the song. Tina and Quinn sang her back up. They were probably playing just as seductive as she was. She loved them both dearly. She loved all of them that were with her. The last members of New Directions.

She had made her way to the back of the room where the officers sat in a cloud of smoke that seemed to envelope the whole back half. There, in front of the monsters the thumping stopped and she finished the last notes of the song winking at them all. She felt a small part of her die again. The bad ass bitch that was Santana Lopez was killing her self.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note:** Once again I thank all of you for the reviews. This is kind of short. I got misty eyed writing it so I hope you get misty eyed reading it. I don't own Glee, nor do I share any of the view points of the story that I'm writing.

The War

Chapter 3

Kurt Hummel had one thing left of his past life. The one thing in the world that reminded him of who he was, where he came from, and who he wanted to be. Year's ago he traded in his fashionable cloths, beauty regiments, and hair care for less desirable things. Horrible things, which like his skin cream, were now part of his daily life.

In stead of shoes, he wore dirty worn out combat boots. In stead of little golfer's hats, he wore a ball cap. Instead of shampooing and lather, he shaved his head. Instead of acne lotions, he noticed the scar on the side of his face from his first hand to hand combat fight.

That was his life now. He was no longer the graceful, petite boy, but a soundly built man. He had tried to crack jokes about it.

"_The first Gay GI Joe."_

The jokes faded away though. The delicate voice still octaves higher then most men now had an edge to it. With a grave rasp like some one who smoked too much. His hands were callused and dirty. Playing with guns, knifes and bombs all day would probably do that to some one.

Kurt Hummel was no longer the gay little boy. He had become… he didn't know what he had become. He often found himself looking in the mirror for hours trying to find some semblance of who he once was. He longed to see the optimistic proud boy that could have been Pinocchio on Broadway. The last intelligence reports they received said that all the theaters had been burned down. He wanted to hear that uncomfortable giggle that would come from out of no where. Hell he just wanted to giggle.

Everything about him seemed wrong. He tried, when he was alone, to remember the dreams he had when he was that boy. He could remember some of them, but they were distant now. The world that he had dreamed of was gone, nothing but burnt ashes and rubble.

Even his flamboyant movements were gone. He could no longer cross his legs properly. They were too big and uncomfortable to set in the position. Now he sat like a "guy."

Yes, Kurt Hummel was gone. As much as it pained him to admit it, it was true. Kurt Hummel died the day he watched his father and stepmother shot. The last words his father spoke, well mouthed was, "I love you."

After that… there were no more giggles, no more jokes that meant anything. That beautiful unique boy died with his father. He died just like he did with a bullet through the heart.

He suspected that for months he was nothing but a shell. Maybe he was a zombie lumbering around a labor camp eating slop and working his fingers, some times, to the bone. He was never beaten in the camp, at least not that he could recall. He woke up when they told him too, slept, worked, ate, took a shit… when they told him too.

He heard a single gun shot every night. He thought that it was the guards executing a prisoner, or just used it too keep the laborers in check. He found out later that he was the only one that heard it. He still hears it. It happens ever night, the same time, 9:12 P.M. The day Burt and Kurt Hummel died.

So everything that was Kurt was gone. Everything except one thing, the only thing that could bring a smile to his face, the only thing that could even make him cry now. The one thing that reminded him of the great person he was going to be. How he was going to change the world. That there was hope even in the darkest of souls like his had become. There was something to be said, to be had. It was innocents in its greatest and purest form. He looked at it. He ran his fingers over the edge of it and smiled as the tears began to fill his eyes. Should he have looked in the mirror at that moment, even if it was just a glance, he would have seen that Kurt Hummel, the boy Kurt Hummel, was not gone.

He gave the picture a light, loving kiss and laid it beside him on the bed. Finn Hudson was smiling brightly holding Kurt in his arms as Finn held up a Christmas present he had gotten from Kurt. The look on his face was pure excitement, and joy. It was the only form that Kurt could find these days. It was all he had left of the life he had before… before it all happened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: **Thank you all again for the reviews. They keep my writing. I would like to thank two of my Author friends for encouraging me to keep writing. One keeps begging me to finish a few of my other stories, one of which I have lost all interest in. However, the threats of death keep plot ideas in the back of my head.

I have to warn you that I'm using the most hated, fowl words in the English language. Sadly the word is also the only word that sums up true hatred. It is a word that even the sound of it stirs emotions in me that would only be called murderous. I use it to evoke sympathy for the situation, to explain how bad the situation is. I mean no harm, and even if no one takes offence I apologize for it. It is a word that no one should know…

Chapter Three

Not lonely, but afraid.

Mercedes hated this part of the night. She dreaded it more then anything else. The others dreaded it too only for different reasons. They called it the bidding. Where the officers of the occupying armies would bid for the girls and the guys they wanted to get down and dirty with. They got paid for performing of course, but that was tips, small tips from the Russian and Chinese soldiers that couldn't actually afford the "officers coins."

She had ended up in one of the labor camps before she got hired on as a performer at the bar. She worked as hard as she could but in the beginning her size, which she carried so well while performing, hindered her ability to work as hard as the others.

She was fed better than the others because the Russian over serer found amusement in her struggles. The ugly Russian bitch would purposely put her on the toughest assignments. She remembered the one that she hated the most. She would put Mercedes on light duty for months at a time. At first the self proclaimed Diva was happy for this. No harsh beatings. They gave her, her tots, cheese burgers, pizza, soda, but then one day she was pulled from the confines of the comfortable air conditioned office and thrown in with a group of men. She didn't understand what was going on. Then, one of the few Russians that could speak English explained her "obligation" to the newly founded Russian order.

"You whill carrthy dis rrock to ta top of tea hill. You whill wolrk wery hartd, or ba poonishet.

Mercedes looked over at the "rocks." They weren't rocks; they were small boulders in her opinion. Some of the rocks were 40 pounds, others 90 or so. Oh, and that god forsaken hill was soft dirt, steep, and high. There was no point to the work. It was just a simple way for the soldiers to keep the prisoners weak.

She saw the Russian enforcer with his soft leather club. It never left permanent damage, but it stung like a mother fucker. She purposely picked up one of the smaller rocks, straining to pick it up, but well with in her capability of strength.

"No. Dat one." The guard smiled, and pointed at one of the larger rocks.

"I don't think I can lift that."

It was a meek, simple statement. It was honest, truthful and respectful. Yet, so was the statement of the soft leather club. It too was honest, truthful and to be respected. The Russian's didn't pull their punches. The club even whistled while it flew threw the air with all the might of a powerful man wielding it.

The small of her back suddenly caught on fire, pain shooting through her entire body. She had never felt that before. It was like painful water. It splashed out, than returned to its point of origin.

Tear's instantly poured from her eyes. The scream that escaped from her mouth was just as instant. She fell to her hands and knees as she screamed. The pain hadn't even remotely faded before her face was bombarded with dirt. It filled her mouth, her hair, her nose, everything. Then there was a new sensation of pain. One she was familiar with. The Russian solider grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. It wasn't a slow pull either. On top of that the man was so powerful that her weight was hardly noticeable to him. She was glad that at one point she followed Kurt's instructions on taking care of her scalp or else the Russian would have been holding a fist full of her hair. That was an after thought though.

"You will newer quezion my orters! Yous doomb fet niggera."

He threw her to the ground, ordering her to pick up one of the larger rocks again. The pain in her back felt as though her back and been torn open and blood should have been pouring down her body with such force that she could have bled to death.

What small idea the Russians in the camp of sympathy was shown at this moment. They let her lay there for a moment before she could find the strength to move. However, the man with the club kept slapping it against his hand just to prove the point that if she didn't move soon, she would be beaten again.

She made it to the top of that hill; she made it with the 80 pound rock. She did it again time after time. And day after day it became easier. With in the course of three weeks she was using a rope to hold up her pants, her worn out dirty shirt hung like a baggy cloth on her.

It was terrible work. They hardly gave her enough water to complete the tasks. Her breaks, which she cherished when they came, were only 5 minutes. It was for three weeks she did this. She labored beside men who ignored her blight. Mercedes couldn't blame them for that. The only time one of them wasn't beaten for helping her was when she nearly fell down the hill on to the pile of rocks twenty feet below. He wasn't beaten because at that moment the guards and overseer weren't looking.

She had become accustom to sleeping in the room with other men. They were all gentlemen or too tired to think about anything else but letting their tired bodies rest. She woke up every morning at the same time. Twenty minutes for the guards would arrive. She would stretch her body, the sore muscles always protesting. She would drink her fill of water from the spout that was left in the cheap buildings, and eat what she had managed to steel from the lunch cart. She had to be smart if she was going to survive this.

She always managed to jump back into her bed when she heard the guards approach. They never suspected that she had been up earlier. After all, that's when most of them got there beatings for not working fast enough at the start of the day. She purposely would get hit. After awhile the club didn't hurt as bad.

Then one day, the guards didn't wake her. Mercedes had started to rise from her bed, to stand in line for the daily, humiliating, inspections. One of them lightly pushed her back down on the bed and told her to sleep in. She was being re-assigned. It was later that day that she found her self again in the air-conditioned office, with a cinnamon roll and a large cold glass of milk setting in front of the computer.

Two months later she found her self needing larger cloths and then she found her self back at the hill. She could see the over seer laughing as she watched the Mercedes having to start all over again. Then when it became easier she was back in the office. The only food they would give her now was junk food. There wasn't anything green, or healthy. She could feel the effects it had on her now, still there was nothing she could do. She would have starved to death if she didn't eat. The only allowance they let her have was that she could drink water and tea instead of soda.

She was in the office when they were all called outside from the office. There he stood, handsome, powerful and displaying the Russian flag on his shoulder. The sight of him made her skin crawl and she didn't know why, but it did. He laid his eyes on her and smiled.

"Some of you will be allowed to leave the camp and join me in Akron. I encourage any one with musical abilities to step forward. Should I choose you then you will be instantly removed from the camp. You will be performing in an officers club. After all the hard work that has been done they deserve some place to relax.

You will be given housing, food, clothing and money for the efforts you put it. If you would please line up and we will begin the auditions. We'll start with you." He pointed directly at Mercedes. She felt her heart race as everyone looked at her. When she was on the hill she tried to hum but her voice was shot from breathing in the dust and lack of water. The over seer didn't know it, but when she had put her back in the office a week ago she had signed Mercedes way out.

Now a year later she was singing her heart and soul out in front of the group of people she hated and despised. Every night she did this except for on Sundays. Santana and Finn sang her back up. The odds of that many of the Glee club being in one place was shocking, of course they were all found in Ohio and they all sang, maybe the "owner" set it up that way. Maybe he sought each one of them out.

They always let Mercedes perform last. She always racked in the most tips, but it wasn't why. They were trying to get the officers to notice her, to take her. This was her one of her last chances to get some officer coin. She had only been taken once in the bidding and the bid wasn't that high for her. Still it paid for her housing that she desperately needed. This was it. She was out of money and the tips weren't bringing in enough for her to survive. She would be going back to the camp if she didn't pull this off. If this didn't work she was out.

They all lined up on the stage. Quinn and Santana were the first to go, then Tina. Mercedes stood there with her two boys. The two boys that always placed the comforting had on her back. Her two boys, that always kissed her good bye every time they were called off the stage from the officers. Finn and Puck did just that. They held her hand tightly and left. She stood up there alone and she saw the owner lower his head.

She gave him a half hearted smile and turned and walked from the stage to the back room. She had one week before they would come and take her back to the camp. She never wanted to be a whore. Now she wished she was.


	5. Chapter 5

Authors Note: Again thanks for the reviews. I'm going to try to make the chapters longer, however, when a chapter is done, it's done. I'm trying to include ever Glee cast member in the story until later where it will be mostly focused on Brittany and Santana. Britana, or Santtany. Once again I should warn you all that this is a dark story filled with dark themes. There will be blood, death, horrible ideas and just overall screwed up things.

Chapter 5

Asian traitor

Mike Chang hadn't seen combat in some time. In the resistance he was considered to valuable to be lost. He was a handsome Chinese man, who spoke fluent Chinese and was proud to be an American. The resistance needed him alright. In fact he was out of the area days before the attacks took place. He even had his own contingencies should a resistance camp he was in be invaded.

He was never alone, ever. He always had two body guards that stayed with him. They were up while he slept, they took shifts. They were to protect him at all cost, and by protecting him was to beat the hell out of him in a moments notice should the Chinese or Russians find them. To make it look like he was a prisoner and then taken back some where safely in the hands of the enemy until he could escape or be rescued, or exposed.

He wanted to get in to the thick of battle with the bustards that invaded his country. He wanted to make them pay first hand. The coaches though always protected him because after all, there weren't many Chinese resistance fighters who could do what he could do. Also the leaders didn't want him targeted and mistakenly taken out by friendly fire.

He remembered his first mission into enemy territory. He was so scared. He had to go in alone, no cover, because he was in fact the only Chinese speaking Chinese man in the resistance. Well, at least then. He wore the uniform of a dead Chinese officer and when he put it on he could still smell sweat and filth. It had been wasted before he put it on, but he could still smell it.

He threw up a couple of times too. The Chinese were masters at information from there prisoners and he wasn't strong enough not to tell them where his friends were. They would ask that of course. He had been fully briefed on what they would ask him if he had been caught. So, he had his life line. It was a small capsule of something that would kill him painlessly should he be caught. His habit now was to run it through his fingers while he went over the plans for the invasions. He remembered it while he spoke to high ranking officials in the Chinese army, or when he was being briefed on what to expect on when he entered an enemy compound. He always remembered it.

He had come to see himself as death. Where ever he went in that uniform everyone he looked at, touched, or saluted would end up dead. He found that to be a pleasant thought. He watched them laugh, cry, eat, do everything that he did. Some of them old war dogs, others were children younger then he was. But they were all killers and murders. They had come here with the sole intention of destroying the American way of life and they had succeeded, but Mike was going to get it back, even if it was one Chinese national at a time.

Even if the mother fuckers some how managed to destroy the resistance, he would survive long enough to make them pay. He would manipulate his way to the head of the Chinese Government. He would make himself to be a war hero and then he would blow the sons of bitches to the gates of heaven where he would kick their sorry asses back down to the throws of hell where they belonged.

Mike didn't talk too many of the people in the resistance anymore. He was death, and even though it was serving a purpose he didn't want to pass death on to his friends. They were all his friends. They were all American's and they all had a long life a head of them.

He kept pleading with the coach and other resistance leaders to stop sending Sam and Brittany on decoy missions, to stop sending Kurt in to set up the bombs or even to get him to stop playing sniper from trees. They didn't listen. So he took it upon himself to make sure that they survived, that they all survived. He gave them detailed maps, troop rotations, what there habits were… he gave them everything.

He had been reprimanded three times for failure to meet at the extraction points at set times. He was never twenty minutes late. He would be days and weeks late. Yet they had more then what they needed and his friends, from his old life, because of his actions had never once been lost.

That was his claim to glory and he would keep doing it. No matter what anyone said or did. They couldn't stop him from it. If he was going to be death he was going to make sure that death was selective and had chosen a side. Death had chosen the side of the Resistance. Death was coming for the Chinese and death was about to get a new Mission.

"The coach wants you in the briefing room in 10 minutes. We're going back to Ohio." The sweet, yet mono tone voice announced as she intruded in to his room. He sat up from his cot quickly and nodded at her. Mike Chang it seemed was going home.


	6. Chapter 6

Authors Note: Again a thank you too all who reviewed. I don't really think that I capture who Puck use to be in this one, but I tried. All non-Glee characters are going to have some great significance in the story later on. Well, the ones that I give names to so pay attention to them. Good and Bad guys come out of it.

Chapter 6

To make things easier

Noah Puckerman set at the edge of the bed rubbing his hands on his legs in anticipation. It was Monday and every Monday he was chosen by an older Russian officer by the name of Uri Goslavich. (Go-Slah-Vitch)

Puck actually didn't mind the man so much. He was always generous in his bidding. This time though, he was more than generous. There was a minor bidding war that went on for Puck. Uri had won it, but it would probably mean that Uri wouldn't be seeing him next Monday and Puck might get to go back to his nasty apartment for the night. He doubted it though. The Russian officers had a sex drive that use to match his. Now sex had become a thing of necessity not of want.

That made it easier for Puck tonight. Uri always asked him what he was going to do with the money he had received and Puck always answered him. Sometimes it was against Russian rule, but Uri would just smile at him and laugh. Uri had feelings for Puck. Puck knew this and in return Puck had developed feelings for the Russian. Not to mention Uri always brought the best fucking heroine to help ease Puck in to things. Puck wanted that heroine more then anything. He only got it on Mondays. The rest of the week he had to do with out.

Puck had one rule. It was a rule that all the "performers" in the club practiced with diligent hand. Everyone that bid on them had to take a shower before. They always wore condoms, and if the performer said no. It meant no. That was the general's orders and so they were followed by the Russians and the Chinese.

Uri was taking the shower. For the most part, or if it was any other officer Puck would already be naked laying on the bed waiting for whom ever to come out. Uri didn't like that though. In fact Uri liked to talk to him before hand. It was just the way he liked it, and to be honest so did Puck.

This was one of the few times that Puck got into the sex. In fact he down right enjoyed it. The Heroin always came after the sex so Puck couldn't attribute it to that. He actually often fantasized about Uri when he was with another guy. It made things easier on him and most of the Russian female officers weren't all Helga's so he didn't have to picture anyone else.

The bathroom door opened and steam poured out. Puck smiled a little bit at that. Uri wasn't a looker by any means. He didn't have the perfect body; his hair was graying a little at the sides. He was 42, damn near twenty three years older than Puck. Uri was just kind of average. There was nothing remarkable about him. Except for his presence, this caught people's attention. In fact the young Russian officer who was bid against Uri for Puck had to have some balls on him. Bidding against Uri was like telling the President that you were going to kill him. It just didn't turn out well for you.

He always smiled at Puck when he walked out. They had a connection and in some ways it was a father and son connection, which was disturbing to Puck. Yet, these were disturbing times and there really wasn't any one to turn to these days.

"You seem a little distant tonight." Uri said as he stood in the middle of the small room. He was looking down at Puck with a little smile.

"I'm sorry. I guess I just have a lot of things on my mind."

"Like what?" Uri said as he walked over and pulled out some paper work from his jacket pocket.

Puck paused for a few moments before Uri looked back at him with his eyes brows raised now in curiosity. Puck took in a deep breath and frowned at him.

"In the labor camps?" Puck asked.

"Yes," Uri spoke and leaned up against the wall worry covering his face, "Noah do you have enough money to cover rent? You're not behind are you?"

"No, No, and if I was tonight would take care of that for months. Thank you by the way."

Uri pushed himself away from the wall and made a grunting sound.

"The officer who bid against you, you won't hurt him will you?"

Uri smiled at him and sat on the bed next to him.

"Of course I won't. It is how things work here. So what did you want to know about the labor camps?"

"The performers that go there… are they treated worse, or the same as the others… or better?"

"It depends on who's in charge of the camp. Why?"

Puck stood up from the bed and walked over to the small night stand and ran his fingers over the lamp that was setting there. The heat from the bulb made the tips of his fingers tingle. He hadn't realized that they were cold.

"Mercedes is in trouble."

"Mercedes?" Uri asked then his back straightened and he slightly glared. "You mean the black girl?"

"Yeah, well, she isn't getting any body to bid on her. We've been giving her our tips, but they're not covering it. Also we can't give her the coins cause they're tracked."

Uri leaned forward and folded his hands in front of him. "I am a wear they are tracked. What is it that you want?"

"Would you bid on her?" Uri put his head down and there was a slight groan that came from him. Puck had learned about that groan. When his head dropped down, he did that when he was angry.  
>"Uri please, I beg you. You're the only one that can help her. You're the only one that has the money to do it. You're the only one I can ask."<p>

"Ask? You expect me to show you favoritism? Your _friend_ isn't getting the job done. So to us she is more useful in a camp! The thought of her alone being a performer was idiotic to begin with. I almost protest her being allowed to perform." Uri said as he stood and charged the few steps to the window.

"Then why did you? Huh? Why let her be here if you knew she was going to fail? Knowing that whoever was around her was going to do their damndest to make sure she didn't go back to your death camps?"

Uri glared back at Puck at the last sentence.

"Oh, what you didn't think that I knew what those camps are for? You just thought I was some stupid American who didn't pay attention in history class. Forced Labor camps are death camps. You can shoot out all the lies you want about how great you are treating us, but don't forget _General_, I was in one of those camps. Hell, my whole family has been in camps like that before. Or do you not remember Hitler and the Jews? Or did they teach you in Russia that it was a picnic for us then too?"

Uri had turned and faced him during Puck's little rant. His face turning red, but the mention of Hitler had his mouth drop open.

"You think that low of me?" There was a certain pleading in his voice.

Puck looked down his lips quivering with rage, but he had to be honest. He had to tell the truth. He looked back at Uri, and then looked away again. Shame must have being clouding his face.

"No, Not at all. She's just very important to me, to all of us."

Uri let out a long breath and looked up to the ceiling. His eyes were tracing over the water stains and cracks. Puck quietly looked at him. It was so quite in fact that he could hear Tina's moans coming from the next room. His stomach turned a little bit.

"I will bid on her next week. We'll play… a game of some kind to pass the time."

"Seriously?" Puck asked. There was no hiding the excitement in his voice.

"Cross my heart." Uri said as he made the invisible lines on his chest smiling at Puck the whole time.

Puck had a "girl moment" and ran and hugged Uri tightly. Mercedes was going to be okay! This was why he had developed feelings for Uri. Even if he was a Russian, the most powerful Russian in the United States, he had compassion and that was what made Puck have feelings for him. He pulled out of the hug and placed his lips on Uri's. There was shock for a moment, and when he pulled away Uri smiled.

"I thought kissing on the mouth was against your rules."

"Yeah," Puck said as he undid the towel and it fell to the ground, "I never really liked to follow the rules anyway." Then he kissed him again passionately. When they broke apart Uri's eyes stayed closed as his body relaxed in a way that Puck never had really seen.

"Do you have any other friends that need my help?"

"Umm, "Puck said as he looked up, "I'll let ya know." Then they both fell on to the bed, with the springs squeaking under their weight.


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors Note:** Thanks for the reviews again. In this chapter I'm going to make the very first pairing. Hopefully you all enjoy it. This chapter is going to be one of the last of the lighter chapters. This is also the second to last chapter dealing with the Glee kids in the resistance. The Performers still have a few more to go. Looking at it now I still have a lot to go. Artie, Tina, Quinn, Rachael, Finn… I have mad respect for the writers trying to cover all the bases in the show. I don't own Glee nor do I share the views of anything I'm writing.

Chapter 7

Operation: Snake Head

Lauren Zizzes, flicked at her now non-regulation length finger nails. The leaders were standing in front of their little group of misfits. At last count they were at 24. They were talking about dealing the most devastating blow in the history of the war.

She should have been up there briefing her peers, but she wasn't. Monitoring the intelligence reports they were getting from the home soldiers and the Chinese and Russian counter agents was her job. She was good at it too. She was the one that got the intel, she was the one that risked her ass going out in the middle of the night to meet up with Yoto. She was the best. She was also good at kicking the crap out of two or three commie soldiers at the same time. They never suspected her to be able to fight, or to be as strong as she was.

Oh, the war had been hard on her. She wasn't going to deny that. The limited amount of food, and resources was probably the best and worst weight loss plan she had ever been on. Not that she was ever on one. She was always proud of how big she was, but now, now she was a disgusting one hundred and sixty pounds. She could still pick dumb shits that got in her way, over her head and throw them around like rag dolls.

Her boy toy called her Juggernaut. She liked it. For her birthday he had managed to sneak the issue of X-men when the Juggernaut first appeared. That's when she fell for him.

"You're on a roll Evens."

Yep Sam Evens always hit the right spot. Lauren even started to enjoy his horrible impressions of people. Her favorite though, Sean Connery… He said he was like James Bond. She told him he was more like Pussy Galore. She loved Same Evens.

Granted, there wasn't a stalk of lemons handy, and so his hair and gone back to the natural brunette, and he couldn't pull of the Bieber hair. Fucking Bieber. She figured he was one of those traitors performing in the clubs for the soldiers. He probably was. Granted, teen heart throb and all, but she still wanted him dead just as much as everyone else did. Didn't matter how cute he was.

"How many of us are going in?" Kurt's voice boomed across the small room.

There was a pause from the leaders. Then the coach spoke.

"All of you."

The room erupted in to chatter. People stood from their chairs raising their voices in anger. Other's talked amongst themselves in shock. Sam leaned over to her, and whispered in her ear.

"Good work babe."

She smiled at him and he grabbed her hand and squeezed as one of the leaders put up a hand to silence everyone. The room slowly quite down and people took the seats that they had jumped from in protest.

"I understand what we are risking here, but the opportunity is too great to miss. Yoto informed us that all the highest ranking officers from the Russian and Chinese forcers are going to be in Akron. They are going to meet at Club Sway. In a single blow we can cripple both the militaries. Even if a few don't attend they will still be un-believably hurt. They wouldn't be this stupid unless they thought they had already one, and we know they haven't. Our military can't get to Akron to stop them. It's up to us. So shut the fuck up!"

"What about the butcher?" Sam asked suddenly. Lauren looked over at him in shock. The Butcher had been the prime target of the resistance since the start. He had "cleansed" an entire camp. There was nearly two thousand dead. The single greatest lost of American life in the history of the country.

"Lauren?" One of the leaders asked as they too were curious as to who was going to be there. The Butcher was worth it for all them to take out.

She stood up and looked around the room gazing at all her friends. "The Butcher will be there. Yoto told me that he frequents the club often enough. However, too keep up appearances Yoto will be there also."

The room once loud with chatter suddenly became deathly quite. No one spoke, no one moved. All eyes were on her. It fucking blew that she had to brief that part of the plan to them. Yoto, which was his code name, was the only link they really had to the higher Chinese military. Lauren was in fact the only one who had ever seen or heard his voice, though she had never seen his face.

"We are out of contact with him per his request. We won't be able to advise him of our plan. If he doesn't contact us by the time the plan is executed… he dies with the rest."

The briefing was over after that. She and Sam walked through the nearly dark camp hidden behind Mountain ranges. They were in the heart of enemy territory, but the little camp was of no interest to the Chinese or the Russians. To them it was just a small town that they passed through every couple of weeks. With in a week though, it would be empty, burning, and obliterated. No sign that the resistance was ever there, except to make the Chinese think that it was the resistance that destroyed the town. That's how they rolled, and that's how Lauren liked it. They had just walked up to her house and he inched slightly closer to her.

"So, um, do I get to come in tonight? It's been a long day. I was kind of hoping to get a little before we ship out." Sam smiled at her that stupid smile.

She loved the look in his eyes when he almost had to beg for sex. He never had to beg she would have given in to him willingly but it was so much more fun to tease him… Make him squirm a little bit. Plus, she liked to hear the breath catch in his throat. She looked up at the night sky as if contemplating his question, like the stupid stars would hold the fucking answer to a yes question.

"Maybe." She said. He was about to protest but he didn't have a chance as her strong hands grabbed a hold of his crotch. Oh she loved the sound of his breath catching. She rubbed up and down gently feeling his dick become engorged in want.

"I mean, it's really getting hard… to say no to you."

"Yeah it's getting pretty hard." He said as he almost shuttered as he felt the zipper of his pants slide down and her almost too cold hands reach in and grab his girth. He whimpered a little bit as he stepped closer to her and traced his hand up the side of her breast.

"I mean it could be a… long night."

"Mmm, could get pretty hot too. We probably wouldn't be able to sleep well, being all sweaty."

He had learned how to tease her just as well as she had learned how tease him. Her breath became shaky as he reached up under her shirt and ran his thumb over her erect nipple. His lips made contact just under her ear and the maybe had become a hell fucking yes, take me Evens take me!

He pressed closer to her, eliminating the space between them. Her hand was still in pants, but she knew Sam, she loved him. He was going to grab for the door handle he was going to throw it open and they weren't going to make it much farther then the empty living room.

She loved how his lips felt on hers how his tongue was always so warm and touched hers just as gently as he normally touched. Not to mention the fact that he was willing to let her do just about anything as long as it made her happy. Tonight, just feeling him inside her was going to make her happy.

She heard the door fly open and he backed her in to the house. She was wrong this time. They didn't make it past the entrance.


	8. Chapter 8

**Authors Note:** Thank you for the reviews. In the last one I said that it was going to be one of the last light chapters and so it was. At least for now it is anyway. I don't own glee. Also a side note as I am too lazy to go back and fix it. In the last chapter I said two thousand had been murdered… What I was going to put was twenty thousands, and for some reason my sleep deprived mind came up with two… SO just add some zero's too it and call it good please. Thank you.

**Author Shout Out: **Sal, thanks for the _**AMAZING**_ reviews. From hence forth it will be Evans… Promise.

Chapter 8

No isn't in his vocabulary

Quinn walked out on the stage for the biding. She was thankful that tonight he hadn't shown up while she was performing, she was hoping he didn't show up at all. Still, right as the biding was about to begin he walked in. He was so tall that even Finn had to look up at him. He had a huge, ugly square jaw, disgusting teeth and rough dirty callused hands. Quinn was his favorite "toy." He would tell her how beautiful she was, and how pretty her hair was. Once a month he managed to save up enough coin to grab her for a night. Once a month she would throw up before she went up to see him. Once a month she drank so much that she couldn't feel pain.

The performers never talked about their officers. As far as everyone else was concerned it was because he was so ugly that she threw up, but she had been with ugly men before. No, the reason she threw up was because he was cruel. He would tell her how pretty she was before he punched her in the stomach. He would tell her how pretty her hair was before he would drag her around the room by it. If she screamed he had threatened to kill her and she was positive he would have. He would pick her up and shake her violently, call her names in Russian; he would throw her around the room. Then when he was worked up and hard, and she was crying he would have sex with her.

He was a minute man and a one inch wonderland, but he was still there inside of her. He never left any marks on her though except for the painful, bleeding hickies that he enjoyed putting on her inner thighs. She had told him no, but he didn't care. He laughed at her. It was a deep booming laugh that filled the room with stench of his breath.

She should have told some one about what was going on. The performers were protected. They served a "vital" service to the "proud" hard working soldiers of the occupying armies. But this man, this monster was feared by all but the General who never bid on anyone but Puck.

With what little she could pick up from having to set with the Russian soldiers, which really wasn't much, as she had yet to learn to speak their language fluently was that he was a murder of thousands. He was the overseer at one of the camps which no longer existed from what she gathered.

They called him a word that she didn't understand and was to afraid to ask for a translation. She was also afraid of his retaliation if he found out she had been asking about him. She wanted to speak with the General, but… She was afraid of him too. She had to keep quite about it as the two seemed close. They seemed friendly.

She looked out over the crowed only to see his towering, imposing figure, and was wondering if No, would work before the biding. She didn't have a chance. When she stepped forward he shouted "8 coin." Always a high bid that few could match. Those that could… never tried.

She walked off the stage to go to the room defeated. She didn't drink that night, she didn't think he was going to show, she wasn't ready. Something in her was screaming to run to the bar and grab some of the liquor. It didn't matter what kind, didn't matter how bad it burned. She didn't care. She needed it to not feel the pain. She wasn't even sure if she could stop herself from screaming, but now she didn't have a choice. The two armed guards opened the door for her as she walked to the back. Ignoring her totally, not even a simple acknowledgement. Quinn wanted to latch on to one of them and plead for them to shoot him, to kill him, to protect her like they were ordered to do.

She didn't even seem real to them. To them she was a whore. They never even made eye contact with her. Her hands were starting to shake. Oh fucking hell she needed that drink. She needed to be numb. She didn't want to feel anything about him.

She walked in to the room. He would be a few minutes, he had to get the towels and soap from the bar. She had time, just barely enough time. She had learned after becoming a whore that if she threw up, puked her fucking guts out, she some how felt better about herself. Some times it was voluntary, but when he was here. It was automatic.

She ran to the small wash room and wretched violently several times. The bile from her stomach burned her esophagus because she had hardly eaten that day. She stood up and flushed the toilet watching the contents swirl away, wishing she could go with it. She wanted to hide away in the filth of the sewer. She would be cleaner there. She would be happier there.

Then she looked in the mirror. Her eyes were red, but he never paid her any mind when he went to shower. They would be back to normal before he got out. She rinsed her mouth out, touched up her lip stick. Then she heard the massive feet coming down the hall. He was barking orders at the guards at the door to the back. His voice boomed with authority and malice and she sat on the bed slowly taking off her dress.

He busted threw the door like he always did, pulling off his uniform as he went. He seemed like he was in a good mood though and she had hoped that maybe God would spare her the pain tonight, and he would be out of her room in the few minutes it took him to get off.

She waited patently for him to emerge from the small bath room. When he did, she sat naked ready to receive what ever punishment he had in store for her. He walked out slowly, ducking his head down to miss the frame of the door.

The sight of seeing him naked always disgusted her in ways that she didn't think was possible. She knew that because of his height his body was different then most of the men she was with. But he looked as though he were deformed. His powerful arms were skinny, long and hairless. His torso square shaped as if was no indication that he had hips, and his legs like his arms were out of proportion with the rest of his body. And that small, uncircumcised thing he called a dick could hardly be seen through the thick bush of light brown hair. His facial hair was scattered in patches along his face, and his brown, broken, teeth only added to his monstrous feature.

There was something in his eyes this time that made her want to scream and run from them room. She started to, but he was too quick and threw her down on the bed. The massive weight of his body crushing her in to the unforgiving mattress, and the massive hands crushed at her wrist. She almost was certain they were going to snap.

"Beautiful Girl." He said as he leaned down and tried to kiss her.

"NO!" She screamed. He just smiled at her. No, wasn't in his vocabulary.


	9. Chapter 9

**Authors Note: **This is the last chapter that is going to deal with the resistance group. I still have Finn, Tina, and few others to go for the performers. I'm throwing in a nice twist in the next couple of chapters so keep your eyes peeled for it.

Chapter 9

Where the heart is

Sam Evans sat propped on his elbow looking down at Lauren. He was tracing his hand up and down her arm gently so he wouldn't wake her. She was so soft to touch and he always noticed how warm she felt when she was pressed up against him like they were now. Lying in the small entrance to the house that had been abandoned months before the Russian and Chinese joint force had moved in on the state. The whole town in fact had packed up and moved. It was the perfect place for the resistance, he was kind of sad that it would be nothing but ashes by the time the Russian patrol moved through the next week. There were a lot of good memories nestled in the small brick homes, stores, and streets.

He looked up and down Laurens body and noticed the tell tale signs of how big she use to be. The now light colored skin that were stretch marks that covered her mid section, the loser skin that covered the powerful muscles, her overly chubby cheeks.

She was beautiful to him. He had never come across a woman who was like her. That's what had drawn him to her for her companionship during the war. Why he would flirt with her constantly, call her sweet names. He needed that companionship. He always felt better after he got off. He always thought and fought better when he didn't feel the incessant need to blow his load. He knew it was cruel to say, but Lauren was only his dumping ground.

He knew that she loved him. After all the things he had done just to get her in to bed she'd better. She had turned out to be one of the best pieces of ass he had ever had. She was wild and passionate. She would let him do some of the most fucked up things to her, and she enjoyed every minute of it.

When one of the Chinese or Russians would almost get the best of him, it would piss him off, infuriate him in fact, and he would take it out on her. Fucking her as hard as he could, he enjoyed watching the little bits of pain that would cross her face. She always seemed to cum harder like that though, he wanted to get her to the point that she was saying he was being too rough, but she was a tough fucking bitch. He had to give that to her. He still wished she would say it.

Yet, the nights like they had just shared, he figured she cherished those the most. When he would "make love to her." If he was any kind of heartless dick he would have told her that when he was doing it to her like that. Touching her and kissing her so gently that he was thinking about Brittany.

Every so often he would hope she wouldn't return from one of her missions. That she would get caught or killed and his "buddy" would come to comfort him and, he could finally feel what it was like to be with a woman he actually loved. He wondered what her pussy felt like. If it was tighter then Laurens, or if her body was still as perfect as it was back in the days of old, with that cute little mole next to her belly button.

He had wanted to steal Brittany away from where they were. They could run and hide somewhere. Maybe not live happily ever after, but live together. Brittany was still a stupid girl though. Oh, when it came to slaughtering the enemy, when it came to following battle plans or even make them, she was brilliant. Yet the simplest concepts still escaped her grasp.

For instance, she couldn't remember that Paper beats Rock. Or she never picked up on the fact that when they did the itsy bitsy that she was in fact the rain because she was the one that dropped the bag. And she always ate those fucking granola bars.

He liked that about her. She would believe anything he told her and that always worked to his advantage. Granted, manipulating his "buddy" was kind of mean, but Sam was absolutely convinced that if he didn't manipulate her on some things, she would be killed by her own stupidity. That's why Sam loved her. Because he could control her, and would never have to be cruel to do it.

Lauren slowly turned in to him and moved closer to his body. His eyes saw Lauren, his mind saw Britt and when Lauren looked up and him sleepy and smiled he whispered  
>"I love you."<p>

Lauren whispered back

"I love you too."

He really didn't care if she thought he meant that he loved her and not Brittany.


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors Note: **So, this chapter is about one of my Favorite yet hardest to write (at least for me) characters. Just so you all know, I wrote this as it went. I didn't even have an idea of what to do for her, nor how to dig in to her character to change it. So if she seems a little OC I do apologize.

Chapter 10

Not so bad

Tina pulled on her dress as she looked over her shoulder at the young Russian officer who had bid on her that night. There wasn't a whole lot to say except that the woman had the tongue of a Goddess. This particular Russian cried after every session. Tina didn't deal well with that. Clearly the woman had had a horrible experience when she was younger that now made her burst in to sobbing fits when ever she had an orgasm. That wasn't Tina's fucking problem. She never even spoke to the Russians. To put it mildly, she just jumped right in.

She actually enjoyed performing for the others. It was a different experience each time. One of her favorite things to do was to watch their body movements. It was as if each person she had preformed for was carved from the same stone. Arching of the backs, tightly closing of the eyes, an almost painful grimace that would explode a cross their faces. Mostly the men did that when the came, but she noticed some of the women did that too.

She found it very funny with the Chinese men that bid on her. They did everything the same as the others only much more restrained. Many of them didn't even bother to make noise, but expected Tina to scream and shout out in extasy. It was all an act; in fact she didn't think that she had had an orgasm since the first day that she preformed.

It could have been that she was constantly thinking of other things. Probably the equivalent of the shopping list she had always heard other women talking about. Milk, eggs, dish soap, (insert moan), bread, pizza rolls, chicken, (moan). Despite how the other performers seemed to feel after their night, she seemed fine. She even felt fine. There really was never any remorse. She looked at it like a job and her job was to stay away from the re-integration camp.

It wasn't really that bad there. She was treated very well. Sure she didn't like having to relearn the customs that her mother and father had already instilled in her. Learning Chinese was a lot harder then she thought it would be, and she hated those stupid dresses, but compared to the others she was with… It was a piece of cake.

She wasn't kicked out of the camp per say, but she was shunned by it. That's when she found club sway. That's when she found all of her old friends. She found out what they did and it actually appealed to her. She thought it was kind of weird a first, but then again, she had always been just a little off.

When she walked in to her apartment she quickly stripped off the dress and headed to the shower. That was her nightly ritual. She would shower, get something to eat, then clean, and practice for the show the next night, unless it was Wednesday.

Santana would be coming over to her apartment soon anyway. They always spent time together. Santana said that it was like going out and getting coffee with friends after work. They didn't drink coffee though.

When the water was right temperature she stepped it and shuttered a little bit. The water warming the cold parts of her body as it was quickly becoming fall, and the dress she was wearing did little to protect her from the elements. She sighed as the water seemed to wash away the smell of the woman she had been with. She enjoyed the showers like this. When it was warm and you could see the steam going over the top of the curtain filling the room.

"Tina?"

She heard Santana's voice call out through the bathroom door and she sighed. She was just starting to really enjoy her shower. She just started to feel her body warm up with the water and what little stress she had started to melt away.

"I'll be out in a second." She said with a slight bit of annoyance. She turned off the water and noticed that the cold didn't bite at her like it normally did. Maybe she had the water a little to warm.

She wrapped the towel around her and walked out in to the living room where Santana was standing looking over a book Tina was reading.

"Hey San." Tina greeted with a smile. When Santana looked at her there was a moment of shock, probably because she was in a towel, but when Santana screamed it shattered her little world and pain shot all over her body… Santana kept screaming.


	11. Chapter 11

**Authors Note: **Alright this is my favorite character on Glee. This also explains what happened to Tina. I apologize for the long wait on this one. I have to be in a dark mood for me to write this story and it just so happens that I'm in a dark mood. So here we go. I don't own glee. Brittany and Santana are the main characters but like I said in my first authors note this is also about each person in glee.

The quote from the old lady in this chapter is a real quote spoken by my great grandma seconds before she died. I put it in the story because it is one of the defining moments in my life when it seemed possible that there is something better after this. Please don't take it as my way of pushing God on to anyone. I'm simply writing what I know, and given the situation I, Me, Myself, would turn to God.

I am a guy. This means that I have very little knowledge of lesbian relationships and while I have watched enough of "those kind of movies" I have no idea what goes on so please forgive me if you're a lesbian and I am WAY off on the Santtiany interaction. Thank you. Please Review.

Chapter 11

What could have been?

Finn Hudson lay in his bed looking up at the ceiling. He really wasn't thinking about anything, but his mind was racing. He had gotten kind of use to that. He was still trying to pull off the all American Boy routine, but only because that seemed to catch the fancy of quite a few Russian officers. It was mostly the women and a few men. He didn't mind that so much. The first time he thought it was going to be totally disgusting, but it wasn't. He got into it sometimes if the guy was cool enough. If they guy wasn't cool enough he had figure out ways to get it to end quickly.

The women, even if they weren't attractive he could always find something that he desired in them. So he never had any "performance issues," as Mercedes would joke about from time to time. Unlike the other he didn't really have a regular. In fact He and Puck were most of the time behind the bar serving the drinks. Some times they would get up and sing for the officers, but they didn't have to show case themselves like that. They got most of there interaction from the bar. He was always told he had a nice smile, or that he was tall.

The only thing that Finn really hated about the situation was The Owner of the club. He had taken a liking to Finn and while it wasn't entirely sexual, it was more then friendship. He always thought it was funny the way it worked out. How God had a plan for all of them. He had started to believe in God two days before the owner showed up. He figured it was because he didn't have anything else to believe in at that point.

The camp he was in, well, it was one of the worst. He had learned a lot of things there and none of them were good though some of them came in handy now. He remembered when he carried the body of child, no more then seven years old to the incinerator. She was dirty, and her hair was matted. He wasn't sure if she was blond, or brunette, but when he picked her up, the way he did it, it made her head fall on his shoulder and to him, it felt like she had curled up next to him and fallen asleep.

Her name was Riley and she hadn't died because she was being abused by the Chinese. In fact they used the children for light duty but they were never beaten, or under fed. They were just used to clean up stuff. They got to play in green grass and were sent to school. Riley was very good at speaking Chinese and the Chinese seemed to like her. She was sweet, and despite what was going on around her always smiled when she saw Finn. She had a crush on him, because she told him. When she died though, the Chinese threw her in the pit with all the other bodies of the workers who had passed on do to the cruelty of the camp. She was one of many children that died that week.

They had gotten sick, some kind of virus and the Chinese didn't take care of them. Most of them died crying for their mothers, or in there sleep with the fever made them pass out. That's when Finn started to believe in the idea God.

He carried each child in his arms. He never once put them on the wagon like they were supposed too. He carried them, because he wanted them to see from Heaven that some one loved them, and that that they were in a better place. He would pull the hair from their eyes, he would kiss their foreheads and whisper a simple good bye.

That's why God had sent what the Chinese called the "Childs Plague" to the camp. So he could take them away from the pain that they were going to receive at some point. Even then the notion seemed UN believable.

Then when he didn't think he could take the stench of death anymore, when throwing corpses on to the wagon got too much, he did the un thinkable. He went to the overseer and asked him if he could be moved to the hospital for a couple of days. Only a couple that's all he wanted. He just needed to see that some where in the world there was still good and the hospital was the place, the only place in the camp that would show him that. The overseer granted it. It was in that hospital that he found his true faith in God.

He stood near an older woman who had been beaten. The doctors ignored her and when he went to take away her sheets she smiled at him. Missing teeth, bruised and ugly, but in her eyes there was a sparkle that caught his attention. She spoke to him clearly and with so much happiness that he started to cry.

"They've come for me. The angles, they've come for me and they're singing. Can you hear them? Oh it's so beautiful." Then she was gone.

He fell to his knees at her bedside and prayed. For that one simple action he received a broken wrist, ankle and fourteen lashings with those soft clubs. He asked to be taken away from that place that day. His prayer was for death but none the less, the prayer had been answered and no matter what he had to do, it was still better then carrying children to be burned from neglect.

While deep in his thoughts, a blood curetting scream tore him away from the thoughts of God and a happier place. He launched himself from the bed and ran out in to the hall where he met the others who were responding to the clearly scared scream. Had one of the officers broken in to their small apartment building? He didn't know, but when the screams continued to come he didn't care.

He threw open the door to the apartment that belonged to Tina and froze in his tracks. His mouth fell open and at some point he could feel the bile in the back of his throat burning. Quinn let out a similar scream as Santana's.

Tina stood there, her long jet black hair still wet as if she had just gotten out of the shower, but her skin… Her skin was red and blistered. The blisters ugly, and the some the size of CD's covered her entire naked body. She stood motionless crying. Finn looked her up and down. Every inch of her was burned. The top of her feet to the most sensitive area's of her body was burned. She was shaking and to Finn it was a flash back to a darker time in his life.

Tina stood sobbing trying not to move because every time she did a blister would rupture and she would scream out in pain. Finn didn't even see the Russian soldiers rush in. All he saw was the little girl who had a crush on him burning alive.


	12. Chapter 12

**Authors Note:** This is the last chapter for setting up the Character stories. After this it will be on to more of the story development. I'm incorporating three glee characters in this one. It's an effort to save a little time. I hope you don't mind.

Chapter 12

The Owner

He sat in the hospital waiting room with his 'performers.' Hardly any of them had spoken a word since they arrived with Tina and the Russian medics.

When he saw Tina his heart nearly stopped. She kept telling the Russians she didn't think the water was hot enough to do that to her. She said it felt nice.

She was luckily. Had Santana not walked in when she did, the doctors said Tina's skin could have begun to peel away. As it was, she was mir seconds away from having life threatening injuries, now she would only be in pain for the next couple of weeks.

As soon as he found out she was going to be alright he started to panic. The gathering at Sway was only a few weeks away and he was down one of his best performers.

He looked across the small group of young beautiful adults. Finn kept looking back at him with that 'everything is going to be okay' smile. Puck glared but that wasn't unusual, Mercedes held to Quinn's side and the self proclaimed queen bitch, Santana, had yet to stop crying. He was worried for his performers now. Tina seemed like she was the most adjusted one to the situation that even he admitted was just a little fucked up.

He looked down at his shoes and took a deep breath. What had he done?

"Will?" He heard his name softly spoken. He didn't respond.

"Mr. Schuester?" Oh, when that name was spoken last the only worry his kids had was winning regionals.

He looked in to the brown eyes of one of his favorite students. He gave a half smile and Artie gave him one back. He nodded and stood up.

"Guys, we should really get back. Our time allotment is going to run out pretty soon."

The kids all looked at him and then Finn hesitantly spoke as he looked over at the Russian escort.

"If it's all the same Will, we should hang out here a little longer. Just incase something changes. Ya know?"

Will looked over at the Russian whom simply nodded that they could stay.

"I'll go back with you Mr. Shuester." Artie gave him a sympathetic smile.

It was a cold night and Will pulled his jacket closer to his body. Artie was right beside him. They didn't say a word to each other. Will was so lost in his thoughts that should Artie have spoken he wouldn't have noticed.

He had thought he had done the right thing by agreeing to run the club. He saw it as a way to protect the kids, to keep them out of the camps. Now he wasn't so sure. He tried to find them all. To take then away and let them sing and dance and to be with each other. Music made everything better. Or so it did.

When he couldn't find them all, when he realized that they were all most likely dead, he made a promise to himself that it wouldn't happen to the others. Now death seemed like the best option from them all.

He walked in the club and straight to the bar. He grabbed his special stalk of American Whiskey. He didn't know when he had stopped calling it whiskey or just Jack. He took a long pull from it, the lovely burn long gone. To him it was like drinking water. The effects though remained the same.

He could feel arties eyes on him looking at him with disappointment covering his cartoon like features. That made will take another long pull.

"It's not your fault Mr. Schuster." Artie said. His childish tones remind him of a child trying to comfort his parent.

"It's not huh?" Will looked at Artie. "Tina had it made where she was at, Quinn she was at the best camp making cloths for soldiers. Now it seems they're the most fucked up out of all of you. That Artie, is my fault.

There was a noise up on the stage and Will turned to see Rachael standing smugly, center stage wearing the biggest smile she could muster. She was auditioning.

"Mr. Schuster, as the unfortunate events tonight have left you with out a Performer, I would like to offer my enormous talent to officially put club Sway on the map."

Will took another pull from the bottle and set it down on the bar.

"First I was thinking that you could put a large poster of me on or by the front entrance. That would surely pull in a crowed."

"We've talked about this Rachael."

"But Mr. Schuester. Performing is my life. If I can't perform I might as well be dead."

The last word almost seemed to cause Will physical pain. Rachael slightly flinched at the sight and Artie gave her a look that called her an idiot.

"You're not getting on that stage! No one can see you here! Do you understand? If they knew I took you guys from the camps they would put me and the both of you away."

Rachael folded her arms. "I'm the best singer here. I would think you'd want me to perform."

Will ripped the bottle from the bar and marched to the stage. Rachael took a couple of steps back and Artie stayed perfectly still.

"They suck dick for a living Rachael! They fuck disgusting men and woman for a hot meal and a roof over their heads. That's not performing! You're still a virgin! Do you want your first time to be for money with a fat, smelly, perverted asshole who will insist on fucking you in the ass! HUH! DO YOU!"

Will swallowed down his rage and looked at Rachael's tear filled eyes. He started to cry.  
>"You two are the only ones I can truly protect because no one knows you're here. Please just be content to sing for me and Artie. That's all I ask and we're all we need."<p>

She gave him a small smile and pulled her hair back behind her ears and gave a nod. He smiled at her. Then he looked back at Artie who still looked like he had gotten yelled at.

"You two are the last ones that are still right. You have to trust me that I won't let anything happen to you, but to do that you have to listen to me. You have to trust in me. Now go to bed. The others should be back soon."


	13. Chapter 13

**Authors Note:** Sorry for the long the delay on this one. I actually do have real life drama that interfered with my writing ability. So like I promised this is plot development time. The next Chapter after this will be the first meeting between the resistance and the performers. (Also I couldn't tell if Chord AKA Sam's eyes were Blue or Green so I went with green. Don't want to offend any Sam Fans) this is not my fave chapter as I'm not a really a romantic kind of guy. So I apologize. This chapter was just kind of filler. And on sleep depo. RE read the chapter twice didn't catch anything, but if I missed it that's my story. Enjoy.

Touching Santana

**Brittany** rested. They had traveled for nearly two days only to reach the out skirts of Ohio, or what use to be Ohio. She didn't know what the Russians had designated it as, or if they had changed the name at all. If even state boundaries even existed anymore, she wasn't sure.

They had set up camp in a resistance friendly town, that only had a few patrols come through every now and then according to the sympathizer. The house she was staying at had a hush over it. Most of her cell was from Ohio. It was strange to them to becoming back to it. It was more difficult she would guess for her Glee mates. They had all been on there way to the death camps when they were rescued.

She was thankful that the coach had done that. They always thought she was full of BS but it turns out she was actually not joking when she said that she could kick people's ass. She still used inappropriate sayings, that even Brittany was fully aware were wrong. Yet the softer side to her, the one that very few had seen was actually what got them through the battles, the hit and runs, bombings and information gathering. She had been a great mentor to them.

Still, even with most of the Gleeks around her she felt emptiness with in her body. She missed Santana. She had long ago come to except that Santana was most likely dead. If she wasn't then she had been moved off to one of the more aggressive camps that worked "spirited" workers ten times harder to keep them in line. Santana was most certainly spirited.

She didn't cry for her though. She wouldn't bring herself to that level yet. In fact Santana would have made fun of her for it. Still she missed the sweet lady kisses. She missed the smell of her hair and the touch of her hands tracing over her delicate nipples when they were in the midst of the best sex she had ever had. Brittany wasn't ashamed to say she had had a lot of sex. She just hadn't had a lot since the war started, or since she joined the resistance.

Sam had made a couple of minor advances at her. She was glad that he thought that she was still stupid. He did make some very good points though; that they were friends and shared everything together. Which they did, even the granola bars. He also said that sometimes they wouldn't know that they would be coming back alive and that they should live the time they had, and have no regrets.

That upset Brittany because she was full of regrets about Santana. She never spoke about Santana to anyone. Just because they might think she was weird. She thought she could talk to Kurt about it, but he was not the same as he was. She wasn't even sure if he was still gay. None of them were the same actually and that made her sad too.

Still every night her thoughts drifted back to Santana. She was still madly in love with the Latin bitch. She knew Santana better then anyone and while she said she was trying to just "keep it real" she was actually scared of who she was. Brittany liked that. She wasn't scared to be herself and she kind of liked the idea that Santana would have to lean on her for the support instead of the other way around.

Still, sometimes she would imagine Santana lying next to her in bed, like she was that night, snoring softly which she denied doing. Seeing her long black hair messed up, slightly drooling. Brittany thought that it was cute and when they would have their "sleep over's" she would set there for hours just smiling at Santana. She seemed so peaceful then. All of her defenses dropped. Some times she would hum in her sleep too. Not really a song, though Brittany would make up lyrics to the strange assortment of notes. She missed being a kid; she missed all the times that she had with her, missed with them all. She wondered if when they all got back together in heaven if they could sing for God. That would be way better then winning nationals. She slightly frowned at the fact that what was left of the Glee club. She knew that could be all that was left. Maybe before the week was over she would have her wish granted and have God frown when ever Mike hit a wrong note. He was cute, but really couldn't sing.

She drifted off to sleep with the thoughts of holding Santana and listening to her hum, snore and drool.

**In** the midst of her sleep she could hear and feel a slight rumbling followed by a heavy pounding at a door. She woke up instantly fully awake and reached for her rifle as Sam burst through the door. She had already identified the sound of a Russian tank and several other light armor units some where near by. There were a couple of trucks too.

"We've got company."

With out hesitation she and Sam ran down the stairs of the house as the other resistance members were crouching down by windows and door frames. Kurt met Brittany's eyes and spoke in a whisper even though it wasn't necessary. The owner of the house, an older woman looked slightly worried as she pulled her robe close around herself. Brittany smiled at her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Do they normally come door to door or inspect houses?"

The old woman clearly afraid spoke in a shaky voice.

"They normally come to the door, but they don't come inside. If this is the same patrol as normal it should be a man named Sasha who will come to my door. He is very nice. I promise." She said. Brittany could hear the pleading in the woman's voice not to hurt the Russian, but she knew as well as everyone else in the house that if Sasha found them he would be the first killed.

Brittany simply nodded and took her place by one of the windows with Sam who was eyeing the patrol. His green eyes locked with a certain fury and fear that she had come to recognize as his "don't want to get caught" look.

"They out number use three to one." Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, well let's not forget that they've got a tank… a very big tank." Brittany said jokingly.

"It's a T-90. Not quite as powerful as the Homeboys Abrams tanks, but still pretty impressive." Kurt added quietly. Every one looked over at him.

"I'll get you one for Christmas." Lauren said as he held her 9mm close to her head. Kurt smirked slightly.

"It had better have heated leather seats."

"No promises." Lauren said with a half smile.

"Shh! They're coming up to the door. You can't let them know we're here." Sam said as the old woman nodded.

"I use to be pretty good at acting I think I can pull it off."

The door bell rang, and Brittany found it an odd sound after all these years. It was early in the morning and hearing it suddenly made her think of the smell of coffee and Honey Bunches of Oats. She missed Honey Bunches of Oats.

The old woman looked at them and waited a few more seconds before she pulled her robe tightly around her body and opened the door. As the door opened Brittany lost sight over her, Lauren and Kurt with a hand full of other members. She was worried that the pounding of her heart would be heard by the Russian and she would be the cause of a massive fire fight that she knew in her heart that they couldn't win. She was also holding her breath. Her hands were gripping her riffle so tightly that her knuckles were growing white. Still she didn't feel any pain.

"Good Morning Sasha." The woman said rather pleasantly.

"Good Morning. How have you been?" The Russians voice held a soft tenor with a hint of amusement in it.

"I've not been feeling well the last couple of days." She said as sweet as an old woman talking to the paper boy, or neighbor. Brittany felt her hand start to relax on the grip of her gun.

"Should I call the medics to examine you?" There was some genuine concern held in his voice, "Also they have been hoping for some of your brownies again."

"Oh, sweet heart, I'm fine. It's just one of the perks of getting older." There was a pause. Brittany wasn't sure, but it seemed as if there was some kind of communication with them. They weren't speaking, but something was being said.

"I swear I'm fine. Next time you boys roll through I'll make sure I have some brownies made up just for you."

"Shirley, you know we can't tell you when we're coming through again."

"Then you won't get any brownies. The last time was just luck of the draw I guess."

She could almost feel the Russians smile coursing through the door.

"Shall we get it over with then?" The Russian said.

"Oh you know what the answer is going to be. Why even bother asking."

"It is my duty… Are you holding any known escapees, fugitives, or wounded American soldiers?"

"Yes I am. I have a whole group of resistance fighters in my home right now, armed to the teeth."

The tension in the room flared instantly. They were so in shock that they didn't even move, or make a sound. The only lifted their guns ready for the fight. Brittany was about to shoot through the door. She paused hoping against hope that he didn't believe her. That old bitch was a Russian sympathizer for sure. Sasha wasn't going to be the first to die she was.

Brittany raised her rifle and was getting ready to pull the trigger and shred the old hag in to bits and pieces of old baggy flesh. The Russian spoke though stopping Brittany from pulling the trigger.

"Resistance fighters this time huh? What do they get for breakfast, Blue Berry Pancakes or Bacon and Eggs?"

"Both." Shirley said. There was a mocking tone to her voice and she moved away from the door as if inviting him in.

"Both? Really? Maybe I should have the medics wait for them. I've had you're pancakes. They don't agree with many people." The Russian said. He had a rather happy tone in his voice and was clearly being accompanied by a smile.

"Are we done?"

"You have a good day Shirley. I will see you in two weeks, Thursday 1pm. Brownies."

"You got it sweetie." Then she shut the door and everyone in the house let out a long held breath. Brittany still had her gun trained on the little old woman.

"Oh put that thing down! I've been telling that sweet boy I have had everyone from the president of the United States, to his grandmother hiding out in the house for years. I was doing it just for this day. He stopped checking about after the fifth time he asked."

Brittany lowered the gun and looked over at Sam who smiled at her. The only thought running through her head was Santana would have just shot the old woman. They were only three days from Club Sway. Three days from critically hurting the Russians and Chinese forces. She suddenly heard eggs cracking, and bacon frying.

Club Sway

**Santana** set on the stage looking out over her prison. The trauma of seeing what had happened to Tina a few days before still haunted her dreams, awake and asleep. She couldn't get the images of her burned out of her mind.

She had seen stuff like that in the camps, but this was something different to her. Tina was the one that seemed to hold it all together. She was the one that came in with the smile when everyone else was gloomy. Her laughter was contagious and even though Santana tried to remain the tough bitch that she had always been, she felt fragile. As if she had suddenly been turned to glass instead of steal like she had always thought she was made of. She always thought that Tina had been the strongest one out of the rag tag bunch. Turns out, being strong comes with a price.

As Santana thought about it, Tina never even once cracked under the pressure of having to sleep with a disgusting man, or even a woman for that matter. She took them to the back room, made as much noise as she could, and seemed to enjoy it. It was all a fucking act. A stupid ploy by her mind to hide the disgrace and pain that she felt. The whole time her mind was destroying itself. Her last hero, her last bit of strength nearly boiled herself alive.

God, she was pissed off. She wanted to be back in the camps, she wanted to be dead. This wasn't a life. Sure, Berry had made a valid point all those years ago when she said that Santana would probably end up dancing on a pole some where. It was still better then this.

She had her "friends" with her, but they weren't enough. They just helped her keep her head above water. She needed Brittany, she needed her life raft. Brittany was the one person that could comfort her in every single way.

This was bullshit! Being a whore in high school was no fucking big deal. She didn't care then because she could sleep with whom ever she wanted and it was expectable, that was the role she had chosen to play. Now she couldn't tell people to go fuck off, she couldn't threaten them with an ass kicking because this was her god damn job. She was a professional whore! Brittany wouldn't have been the saving grace from that. She knew that, she wanted that. It didn't matter who she had to fuck that night, but she could always go back to Brittany and sleep with her. Make love to her all those times before when the code word for it was to "sleep over."

She missed the taste of Brittany on her lips and tongue. There were times when she would hear her singing, or saying something so totally ridicules that in some reality it had to be true, even if it was only Britt's reality. She wanted to hear how she had caught her cat reading her diary, or how she explained how Dolphins were actually just Gay Sharks.

Santana knew Brittany was alive. If there was any kind of person who could have survived this fucking war it was her. Just because she could see the things that others couldn't. She probably now didn't see her oppressors, just the really mean people that she was going to try to make friends with. Because that's what Brittany did.

Had she not fallen in love with Brittany and took her under her wing, then Brittany would have gone about doing her own thing back in school. She would have tried to be friends with everyone she met. She wouldn't say mean things to people because that wasn't Brittany. That was Santana and she controlled Brittany, at least up until this war started.

So, it didn't matter to Santana know what people thought. She just wanted her Britt. She just needed her Britt.

"I need you. Please find me Britt. Please."

"Most people pray to God instead of long dead lovers." The sweet voice of Quinn startled Santana, but just enough to make her look over her shoulder quickly. Nothing more, nothing less, a stupid reaction for some one who was willing to except death with open arms.

"Don't start spurting that God shit to me."

"Oh I'm not. I don't think he is real any more. And if he is, then he only talks to Finn. No, that ass turned his back on us; a truly loving being wouldn't do that. He isn't real."

Quinn walked over and sat next to Santana with her legs hanging off the side. Santana was giving her a strange look. One that Quinn smiled at, but it was one of those fake smiles as if trying to throw people off. Santana wanted to hug her for that, because it was what the old Quinn used to do when they were in school. And Quinn denouncing God was surely a sign of the end of the world. Santana didn't believe Quinn would do that. Nor did Santana tell anyone that Finn's faith made her have faith.

"I just needed company and you were the first person I saw." Quinn said. She was looking out over the bar now. The smell of cigarette smoke stale from the night before was only a few hours away from being filled again with Music, and laughing torturers.

"So you still think Brittany is alive huh?"

"Yep." Santana said as she sniffed fighting away the tears she had been letting fall.

"I think they're all dead. I like the idea of that. Simple oblivion, no pain, no thought, no feeling. Just… Nothingness. It has to be better than here filled with all that shit."

"Thanks for the pep talk Quinn, it was really inspiring." Santana said the note of sarcasm not lost. Santana stood from the stage and started to walk away.

"Oh, it's not a pep talk. I'm not the fucking head cheerleader any more. It's just fact. I heard one of the Russian's say that the American death toll is up to one hundred million. One Hundred Million people… all dead." Santana stopped and looked back at her as Quinn kept looking at her.

"That's a lot of people."

Quinn nodded slowly then looked back at her over her shoulder. She looked like a mix of an Angel and a Demon at the moment, but there was a glint in her eye that still spoke of the true Quinn..

"They also said that the European front broke through the lines of the "Mother land." Not as many Russian are dyeing but I can tell their scared. I think they're losing San. I think because there's not as many Russian's here any more. I think they are all being called home to fight. I think, for the most part. We're winning."

Santana just frowned at Quinn, the only one who could speak Russian, not fluently, but close. She always told them all what they were talking about. She never mentioned that. She was dashing Santana's hopes of finding Brittany. She knew there had to be a reason, but she didn't want to think about it. Brittany was alive. And she needed her.  
>"Britt find me please!"<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

**Authors Note:** Once again sorry for the delay. I find suddenly now I have a life; and it seems to be taking away my energy for writing. I make no promises when the next chapter will be up. I'm going to start combining chapters for the characters. Also, in the next chapter will be the first meeting of the resistance and performers. Is it a Happy Reunion? I don't think so! The song Kurt plays in this chapter is called _Once upon a December._ It's a beautifully written and haunting song. Google it.Enjoy and review as always.

Things that made us smile.

Kurt sat in the house of the old woman. The sun was setting and the warm orange glow through the window was warm and relaxing. Despite the peaceful surrounding, the quite of the house, the comfort of the couch, he was uneasy. A cup of tea, now cold, set in front of him. His hands and arms, resting on his legs seemed bored.

This is the one part he kind of hated the most. Mike and a few others were sent on to Akron for a standard two day recon. Their objective was to get in to Club Sway, but also find temporary lodging for the rest of the group. Some where that was hidden and large enough for them to hide, and purchased under the name of a fake Chinese Admiral.

His eyes traced over the room, at first his mind was locating the most strategic parts of the room. That was a constant habit of his. Should there be an ambush he wanted to be where he could fight instantly, but that had been hours ago. So, he cleaned his guns, made sure they worked, inventoried the explosives, sharpened his knife, polished his worn out boots, dusted the mantel, did the dishes, and now he had nothing to do.

He however couldn't take his eyes of the piano on the back wall. It was perhaps the only object in the room that seemed out of place. It was shined and polished. It seemed that it had been as well taken care of as his guns. He smirked a bit at the comparison. They were both instruments, both made noise, and in some cases both brought sadness and joy.

He tried to remember how long it had been since he had sat down and played the piano, or how long he had tried to sing a song. To him it seemed silly now, but he couldn't help but wonder if he could still play. An hour it took him before the uneasiness of doing nothing finally crept to his bones and his body began to ach from doing nothing.

He slowly stood and walked gently over to the deep brown instrument. He lifted up the fall for the keys and smiled at how brilliantly white they were, yet had the tell tale signs of being constantly used. He looked at the sheet music that rested on the music rack He picked it up gently; the paper yellowed yet still in good condition. He frowned as he felt the layer of dust on it. He read the title, a song he knew.

He reached over and pressed down one of the keys and a note, pure, simple and powerful erupted from the piano. It startled him at first and he looked around the room quickly hoping know one would come running down the stairs when they heard the sound. As the seconds passed and he didn't hear any movement, he pulled out the bench and sat.

He sighed and placed the book on the rack and opened it to the first page. The music notes, he hadn't seen them for years sat, in front of him.

"FACE, EGBDF," he said to himself. "Diminished, Augmented, and 8th notes." He remembered it for sure. He could even hear the notes playing in his head. He didn't need the music to hear the notes. That astonished him. He popped his knuckles.

He pressed down the keys. The chords sang in unison and he stopped once again. That was a beautiful sound. He had missed that sounds. He continued; his fingers dancing over the keys with a grace that had always been there. Sometimes he would have to think about the notes, but his fingers instinctively found their marks, then he sang the words. His voice was rough, but he didn't care. In fact he didn't think about it. How could he have thought that this was stupid? He could feel the unease leave him, he found himself enjoying the music. That's what music was for and he loved it.

He finished the song and realized that he had tears falling from his eyes. He kept his composer though, stood from the bench, closed the sheet music, and placed the fall back to cover the keys.

When he turned around a few of the resistance members were standing there. They're faces where solemn as the song wasn't a happy song. It was a song of remembering a life that couldn't be remembered. He felt stupid, he felt lost, and when Brittany came up and hugged him, she whispered.

"I missed you Kurt."

**Mercedes** made her way out in to the bar area, smiling at a few of the regular Russians who frequented the club, but they only nodded and went back to their conversations.

She had spent a long time looking in the mirror making sure that her hair was perfect, her make up sultry, Quinn helped her pick out the dress that showed off her curves which were less than they were in high school. The high light of the night was when Finn dropped a beer bottle when she walked in the room and he saw her. Granted the Russian wasn't happy that he had dropped it, but still it made her feel good. It gave her hope, that maybe; just maybe some one would want her tonight. Find her attractive and sexy.

Still, none of the Russians looked her way, none offered her a seat and she found herself setting at the bar alone, spinning water around in a glass. She would have bought a drink, but she needed to save what money she had for rent. She hadn't eaten in four days, except for peanuts and crackers that she managed to take from the kitchen.

None of the others knew that she had gone with out food. She didn't tell them. They had given her so much but the strain was starting to fall on them also. They couldn't afford too feed, cloth, and make sure she had rent.

Puck pushed a small bowl of peanuts in front of her. She looked up at him and he smiled. One of the genuine smiles that had always made Puck ten times better looking then he was. He thought the half cocked smiles made him sexy, but his true smile could have melted hearts. She couldn't help but give him a thank you smile, but that was about all she could muster. She wished her smile would melt hearts. Hell she wished her ass would make some one want to stick their dick in it.

Puck continued to smile at her and though deep down inside she knew she needed it, the rest of her mind was irritated with him. She was alone in a room of people and she just wanted to wallow in her water and peanuts. Then she got pissed off. She was too poor to eat and too poor to be a good drunk.

"What Puckerman?" She snapped and he just smiled if possible more.

"Things are going to work out for you. I know they will. Just so you know, you're one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, and so does that young Russian colonel down at the end of the bar."

Her rage instantly began to melt away. She started to look down the bar, but Puck stopped her.

"Don't look. I got the low down on him. He can't bid on you tonight, but he asked about you when you walked in and he keeps looking at you. I managed to talk to him a bit, and he just made colonel, which means he hasn't gotten any officer coin tonight. You got to make him want you girl. Get your ass out there, but stay away from him. Trust me, it will work. Everything is going to be okay. I promise." The twinkle in Puck's eyes was so reassuring that she wouldn't have doubted his words for a moment. She spied down at the young Russian who was looking at her. When she made eye contact with her, he blushed, a deep blush that she could see in the smoke filled, poorly it club.

He was cute, maybe wouldn't be considered hot, but cute. She smiled at him a little and then walked from the bar, setting at a table full of Russian soldiers who looked at her surprised.

"Do any of you speak American?" The whole table nodded in unison.

"Good, my name is Mercedes and I just want to ask you something." The all looked at her with some what hate filled eyes.

"Can I get one of you to buy me a drink? You don't have to talk to me, or bid, or even tip me. I'm too good for the four of you anyway."

One of the Russians smirked.

"White Russian?" He asked with a cocky smile that made her want to smack the shit out of him.

"Oh, no, I think I want something with a bit more meat. Vodka straight up, the finest your broke ass can afford, unless you're afraid of me."

The cocky Russian prick stood up and walked over to the bar. The other simply looked at her and she leaned back and smiled sweetly at them. The young Colonel smiled in to his beer as he took a hardy swig.

**Authors Note:** This one is a bit on the weak side it is mostly filler. Yet, there is meaning behind it. Kurt's was to show that he hadn't lost himself, and that will come in to play in later chapters. Mercedes plot will also come in to later chapters. Bad Juju for her, good Juju for him. Just so you don't think I'm losing my touch. :-D


	15. Chapter 15

**Authors Note: **Sorry for the long delay. I hope you enjoy this. I'm still working out in my head how this is all going to work. Thanks for the reviews!

_Names Have Power_

Mike Chang adjusted the uniform of his dead Chinese solider. It had started to feel like it was burning his skin and he was willing to kill just so that he could take it off. Yoto had given Lauren the insignia for a Chinese General whom would be attending the gathering at Sway.

The small little metal felt heavy on his collar and if he had been paying more attention to it, he might have ripped it off because it was making it hard for him to breathe. In reality it was tiny, it weighted next to nothing but the power it carried was enough to make lesser men crumble or think he was a greater man than he was. Mike was told that the people who wore this were cold and ruthless, which he could pull of well as of late. It would also catch the attention of the Chinese and the Russians in the city. That's what they wanted. They wanted that attention to get in to Sway and that's exactly what it had done.

He walked with the two other Chinese resistance fighters. They didn't tell each other their real names only because if they were captured they couldn't tell this dirty pricks who they were working with. They just called each other by their code names. Mikes code name was Ho. Chinese meaning 'for the good.' It took him awhile to get use to the name, however he didn't change he last name for the mission as Chang was common in China. Ho Chang was even more common.

His companions had code names as well. The first one, Angúo which meant 'protect the country', and the last one was Minsheng, 'voice of the people.' The irony of the code names was not lost on Mike. He actually liked the idea of using their own language as a kind of stick it up your ass, you stupid fucks, kind of thing. They were powerful names that often were left to the non-powerful.

They were looking for a clothing shop, a very unusual Russian solider who spoke decent Chinese told them they need to have a dress uniform for Sway. General's orders he said. He said it was the Generals way of showing respect to the American Whores. The only problem was, they didn't have any dress uniforms and the odd of finding a Chinese Officers club in Russian Occupied Ohio wasn't going to be easy. Also Akron had changed a lot since the last time he was there.

They found a few Russian's who spoke English, who didn't know of any Chinese Officers club that was around, but an American, an older man who wore the Russian flag on his arm, a traitor, a sympathizer gladly pointed them down the street to the club they were looking for.

Mike tried not to look at him with disgust. He was clean, plump and healthy looking whiles the others around him where dirty and while not starving were not being fed well. There were a few shops open still run by American's. One that made him smile a bit was a coffee shop that was now called Bob's Starbucks. It didn't sell coffee, but more of a general store. Bob was spray painted on, and the Starbucks sign was hardly hanging on to its hinges, but it reminded him of how sometimes, when Americans had nothing, they could make it in to something.

Mike thanked the man and the three walked silently down the street. Russian's in civilian clothing walked amongst the Americans, not talking to them, but shopping beside them. It was unnerving. The streets were cracked and falling apart and years ago there was a battle that had been fought here. Some building still remained burned or blown apart. Everything else had been rebuilt poorly. It reminded him of Russia. Not that he had ever been there, but from what he remembered on TV. Down to the barbed wired fences.

They made their way to the shop and when the door opened a short Chinese woman quickly jumped to her feet. The shop smelled of dust and stale air. The look on her face was of pure excitement and joy. She smiled at them brightly and ushered them in with the enthusiasm of a mother who hadn't seen her children in years.

"Come in! Come in! Please." She said in Chinese. She had kind eyes and yellow smile that was warm and comforting and years ago Mike would have found her charming, but now he wanted to snap her neck in a fit of rage, blaming her in an instant for what had happened to his country.

Minsheng spoke first in a slightly warm tone that was still slightly cold. Playing a role that he was told to play, but still Mike could see warmth in his eyes. Mike wasn't sure he was that good of an actor.

"We need dress uniforms. Ours were lost in some where in combat."

She nodded and hobbled to the back of the shop where she emerged some time later with a very large arm full of clothing. She looked at them so sweetly that Mike was almost expecting her to bring out cookies and tea.

"You're such handsome young officers. You must clearly be the pride of the Chinese Army." She said as she moved the clothing aside checking the sizes. She looked at Mike, and then looked him up and down. There was a moment of hesitation in him, a fear, that perhaps she would be coming on to him, but then she pulled out some trousers, a shirt, and jacket.

"I think this should fit you young man. There is a fitting room over there. If you would please forgive the mess, it has been some time since I've had any officers, or solders in here. It is hard to find the motivation to clean when there is no one to clean for." She smiled as Mike took the clothing. It too seemed to burn his skin.

"Then perhaps it would be better for you to find another line of work if you don't feel the need to clean up for an Army that may or may not arrive." Mike said. The sweetness in the woman evaporated instantly and she bowed her head in acknowledgement of his statement.

The uniform fit perfectly and as he looked at himself in the mirror he let out a sigh of contempt. He looked exactly like the Chinese fucks. Just like them. He had once called Tina a self hating Asian. Now he hated the fact that his eyes were "slanted" and no matter how beautiful the color of brown was he detested it now. He thought that maybe he would like green eyes. He removed the uniform again, and placed in the bag to keep it nice and neat.

Angúo and Minsheng were waiting at the counter for him. They stood ridged and quite looking at the old woman who seemed to be on the brink of tears. When he emerged they looked at him with worry and he instantly reached for his gun, and the little pill he carried with him.

Then something else caught his eye. Behind the counter next to the old woman were two children. It was clear to Mike that they were brother and sister. The fire red hair was a few shades darker due to the dirt and filth, holding on to each other like, well, frightened children. He could smell them from where he was standing and he also took note of some of their tears had cleaned away the dirt on their faces. American children he put together quickly.

He looked to Angúo and Minsheng for some kind of guidance on the situation, because that's exactly what they had. Harboring children of the enemy was an offense, and a very serious one. Both the Russian and Chinese had begun to adopted children orphaned in the war. It was going to help a new generation. They were going to be the new sympathizers that would have forgotten about the American way of life. They would be loved, taught, and cared for by the enemy.

Mike was certain of a few things since had become death; that despite his hatred of the enemy, that there were some that were fully capable of loving children that weren't their own. In fact the thought of orphaned children being cared for was one of the only redeemable things the fuckers had done. Even if in the end is served their own purpose.

Mike straightened up. Remembering he had a role to play. This was not his mission, and he was not going to worry himself over something so trivial. The old woman would answer him, with out question. That's what the Chinese did. She might have tried to hide them, but she wasn't going to put her honor in danger because of it.

"You speak English?" Mike asked. His Chinese accent flawless, yet his grammar and sentence structure were perfect. He was always seen as a highly educated man because of his use of the English Language. He thought it was funny that Chinese and English were both his first languages.

"I do." The old woman answered. There was no hint of an accent. All three of them straightened up and looked at each other.

"Oh, don't look so damn fucking surprised," She said with so much malice that she sounded like one of the resistance, "You dick heads think you are the only ones that have a hold of the Chinese Language? Like you're the only ones that can speak it? My grandfather taught it to me when I was learning to speak English. Yes, you would call him a traitor. So go on already shoot us!" Her American accent had a bit of a southern twang to it. It could have been Alabama, or Tennessee, Mike wasn't sure.

"We're not going to shoot any of you. We just want our uniforms. However, it would be wise for you to perhaps tell them children to better behave themselves, it would be unfortunate for the Russians to find out about them… or you." Mike said as he through money down on the counter for the three sets of uniforms. They walked out. The old woman was clinging to the children, and when he looked back she mouthed "Long live the resistances." He simply gave her a nod.

The others were silent. She wasn't going to say anything; it was too much of a risk for her, besides he hadn't blown their cover.

They made their way through the city found an old apartment building that was being used for the Americans, in which he sent the address back in old Morse code to the resistance camp. They had been doing it for years, and neither the Russians nor the Chinese had ever picked up on it.

The night had set, he and his two counter parts made their way in a black limo. When they had shown up at the Embassy wearing the small little medals they were instantly treated like royalty. Mike had to admit his hotel room was something dreams were made of. He couldn't remember the last time he had had meal that was like that, or sat on a couch that was so soft, or taken a hot shower. That he will admit he stayed in a bit longer then he should have. He had never quite felt so dirty and so comfortable at the same time.

The ride to the club was silent and when they were taken in to the club it was set in the VIP section. Far in the back in the dark, away from the common Russian solders. He sat down, ordered his drink from a young 16 year old girl and looked around. He heard the PA system crackle and some one began to speak.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to club Sway."

The voice sounded so familiar. The club suddenly went silent and everyone turned towards the stage.

"In tradition of our club, the performers will now enter."

Damn that voice was so fucking familiar warm in away, welcoming. A spot light suddenly appeared on the stage. The voice stood center, the microphone in his hand. The cheap stupid smile plastered on his face. Something inside Mike screamed in anger and in jubilation. This wasn't possible. Mr. Shuster.

He froze. His heart beating faster then it should have. Then the performers came on stage. They were Puck, Quinn, Finn, Mercedes, and Santana.

"Oh Fuck." Mike said with out accent or Chinese. "Stay here." He said to the other too and made his way quickly and quietly to the exit. He went to a phone and dialed a number that was only used in emergencies.

"Coach, its Mike. We've got a problem.

"What's that?"

"Mr. Shuster is the owner of Club Sway, and he has damn near the rest of New Directions with him."

There was dead silence on the other end of the phone for nearly a minute. Mike didn't dare say anything. He could hear the coach breathing on the other end of the line.

"Bid on one of them."

"Repeat?" He said in shock. He was fully aware of what he had just heard, he just didn't believe it.

"I said bid on one of them. Don't let them see you. Find out what they know…"

"Copy."

"And Mike?"

"Yes Ma'am?"

"They will die with the rest of them if they… if they…"

"I understand."

Mike hung up the phone, and suddenly wished that he had not become death.

**PUCK** had made his way over to the bar with Finn after the introductions had been made to the crowed. Mercedes was on her way to the bar again, after she had been refused several seats by the Russians.

He looked around hopefully when he saw Uri walking towards him, not quite happy look on his face, but pleasant none the less. Puck smiled a bit at him and began to mix his usual drink.

The soldiers made a path for him as he moved, though he never once removed his eyes from Noah. There was such power to the man that seemed so real and dangerous, but he wasn't. He might have been a great leader, a good general, but Puck knew the man better than anyone. That's what Uri told him all the time. Even Uri's wife didn't seem to understand him the way Noah did.

Puck thought that was weird. They did talk, but it was never about the war or even his family. It was just simple things that would have made up small talk, but they always ended up being deeper than that.

Uri sat down on the barstool and Puck pushed the drink over to him with a smile. As always Uri gave him an officer coin, and told him to keep the change. What was the equivalent of one hundred American dollars for a drink was a hell of a tip. Puck once tried to refuse it, but the soldiers around him made it quite clear that he would take the fucking money.

He took a sip from the drink and leaned in closer to Puck.

"I'm going to miss you tonight." He said with a sad look in his eyes, one that Puck was happy to see. Not because he was heart broken, but because he was actually going to do what he had promised.

"Well, maybe tomorrow when I'm off work, you could stop by and I could make it up to you. I mean, I know that it's against regulations and all, but maybe you could sweet talk the General in to letting it go just this once." Puck winked at Uri. Uri smiled a little lifted up his drink in a toast to Puck and said.

"I do have a lot of pull with the man."

"Yeah… Me too." Puck said with a playful smirk.

Uri raised his eyebrows in shocked amusement as he took a small sip from the drink before he sat it down.

"That was pretty ballsy"

"Ballsy?" Puck said with a smile. "That's a new word for you to use."

"I was thinking I need to catch up on my American slang." Puck hesitated for a second before he spoke.

"That's tight. I should get back to the grind before one of your Home boys puts a cap in my ass, ya get what I'm sayin bro? Puck said fighting back the smile on his face.

"I have no idea what you just said." Uri said with a clearly bemused look on his face.

"Yeah, your slang needs a lot of work. Kudos for the effort though."

"Kudos?" Uri again seemed confused and Puck smiled at him and slightly moved his head to the back corner of the club where the officers sat.

Uri chuckle a bit before he moved back in to the corner and sat down in his seat next to another General. Puck wiped a glass down with the rag as he watched Uri move away. Sure it wasn't so cool to think that you could actually fall in love with a guy who was a lot older than you, on top of that we you didn't even consider yourself gay. Puck had been thinking about it quite a bit, that maybe it was a human self defense thing. That he was meeting the requirements to survive. If things went south, Uri might be able to protect him and that was something that maybe, just maybe he had subconsciously thought. So, that's what he started to do.

That's all Puck did now it seemed; was think about what his life was going to be like. For now the club offered him some protection from the world outside its walls. Still, if he had learned anything it was how quickly it all could change. Hell he had learned that in high school. It hadn't really sunk in though. See he had lost his mother and sister some where. He couldn't seem to get a hold of them and even with the help of Uri had yet to locate them. If they had been sent to one of the camps, or if they had some how integrated themselves in to the new society that was surrounding them. He didn't know. His mom was a fighter though and she would have done everything in her power to protect her family.

The thought that they could be dead had never even crossed his mind. That wasn't something he even thought about to be honest. Even when it was brought up in conversation the words just seemed to bounce right out of his ears.

He had heard some of the Russian's talking about the resistance movement and that kind of sparked a little bit of hope in him. The club was fine for now. He was good at three things: Singing, Drinking, and Fucking. That's probably why he was doing so well, but that once again could change. He could lose his voice or god for bid his penis.

Then again, the people in the town looked and him, and the others, differently. He didn't think he was a traitor, he didn't see any of them as traitors. They were simply doing what they had to do survive. Granted it had taken a toll on them. It had changed them all so drastically that there was hardly anything left of the kids he once knew.

He took an order from a Russian and then surprisingly a Chinese officer who had come up and asked for a drink in Amazing English. Of course the gathering of highest ranking officers in the occupying force was going to be in town in the next couple of days. It probably wouldn't belong before the club was filled with both sides. It gave Puck a bad feeling with a deep longing for the good old days when everything seemed right in the world. America was home, not a battlefield. He might have still been doing what he was doing now, but it would have been of his own choice not some one else's. Not Will Shuster's.

The hours had passed by quickly and Puck stood up on the stage with the others. Hands buried deep in his pockets. He was slightly smiling at Mercedes as she stood there looking depressed and hopeless. He had learned also that there is always hope.

His name was called and every one sat silent waiting for the General to make his bid. His voice was never heard. So when Shuster said it again a young female officer through in a two coin bid, followed by a young man for three, and finally the young woman won out at a 4 coin bid. The others looked at him in shock as he looked over at Mercedes who had now on the fakest smile he had ever seen. He remained on the stage with her as he had always done. Finn went next. Then Mercedes name was called. There was a deep booming two coin bid that came from the General. She looked up shocked at what she had just heard as if she couldn't believe that it was a happening. Puck was happy. Two coins would have got her through for the next couple of months. Uri had done more than he had promised and Puck was certain that the love that he felt for the man had to be based some what on reality. He looked over in to the dark corner and smiled a bit. Yet something else happened. Another bid came. It was a four coin bid that sent the whole club in to chatter. Puck looked around for the voice that had spoken it, but couldn't see past the spot light that was on them.

"Five coin!" The General countered and then an eight coin bid from the unknown voice. Uri could match eight coins easily. Hell he could probably match a 20 coin bid, but when he looked over on saw the heated look on Uri's face, when he saw him look to the ceiling Puck knew that he wasn't going to keep going. Mercedes had been taken for the night and deep down in side Puck there was a child screaming for his Mother. The most powerful General in the Occupation was going to be alone for the night. And it was all Puck's fault. He watched Uri storm from the club and what little Puck had eaten that day threatened to explode from his gut…

"God help me."


	16. Chapter 16

**Authors Note: **I just realized that this is going to be hard to follow. I'm writing this in the order that I wrote the chapters to introduce the Gleeks. So, it's going to be a while before we find out what happens. This is turning out to be a lot longer than I thought. I do however have a strong desire to finish this one. So here is hoping. I'm not known for finishing fics. My goal is to have this done by the end of season three… And it would be awesome to hit 100 reviews. Hint. Enjoy.

PS I finished this at 3 in the AM. Please forgive any errors.

Of many things Lauren was sure: One, the enemy was always the enemy. Two, knowledge was power. Three, communication was the most effect way to get bullets flying straight. Four, perhaps the most important, your friends might not always be your friends.

She was in the emergency briefing that was being held in the old woman's house. She stood leaning up against the wall in shock about what the coach had just told her. While the others didn't seemed phased by the news Lauren was certain that had the others been here, Brittany, Kurt, or Sam they would have felt the sickening thud that she felt when she had heard the new. Even the coach seemed to be worried about the situation and what might happen to the rest Homoexplosion. Even though she was in the Glee club she never really took it to heart like the others had. Still she looked back on it with happy memories.

"Do we know which ones coach?"

The look the coach gave her was something mixed with sympathy and understanding. Lauren had come to expect that from her. Some how those eyes held such a warmth to them that even the most harden men would understand them, and accept the pity, sympathy, or love which they gave.  
>"No, Mike didn't say, but if they are sympathizers than we could have a very big problem on our hands. I instructed him to bid on one of the… performers. Which ever one he thought well or could get the most information out of. He was also instructed not to let them see him. If they are with the enemy than they die with the enemy, is that understood?"<p>

She looked directly at Lauren the others would have had no problem shooting the rest of the Gleeks, but she knew, and Lauren knew that if it came down to it. The others including her could have a serious issue with it.

"I understand." Lauren said quietly as she looked around the room at the rest of the leaders and intelligence officers that had gathered there. Not one of them seemed to show any remorse or for that matter anything. This to them was business as usual.

"Good," the coach said, "Lauren will please brief the ones this is going to affect the most."

"Yeah, sure, not a problem coach."

But, it was a problem. She didn't know how to explain to other that their friends, the ones that they had thought, or even hoped were dead were alive, that they were whoring themselves out, but most of all, that they might have to kill them.

As she left the old woman's house she felt tears starting to well up in her eyes.

"This fucking sucks." She said to her self as she made her way down the street to where the others were having dinner at a Restaurant. She could see them through the window. They were using this as down time. The three of them sat there looking happy, young, and for the most part just as she had remembered them in high school. Kurt though seemed distant now, Sam was… amazing, and Brittany seemed so much smarter.

They were never her friends in high school. They were never her crowd. Now, they all relied on each other for survival. She needed them to live, just as they needed her to live. She felt the tears now threaten to fall down her face, to expose the deep emotions that she had always managed to keep hidden. Even in the midst of a fight, she kept her cool. When the Coach as shot, she kept her cool. Yet, to her this was different. This was bringing good and bad news at the same time. Would they hate her for it? Would the love her for it? Would they even care?

She wanted more information of course. They were going to ask which ones, they were going to ask all kinds of questions that she just didn't have the answers to. At least not at the moment she didn't have them. When Mike got back to her with the details and she found out for sure if they were in fact sympathizers, or if they were just doing to survive, if they would help them at all. Then she would feel better about telling them. Still, this was something that had to be taken care of. She couldn't keep it from them, even if she didn't think she was the right one to do it. She knew how she'd do it too. She would walk in, set next to Sam look at them all and say.

"So we found most of the remaining members of New Directions. We're probably going to have to kill them. I don't know which ones so don't even bother asking. Can I get some fries?"

That's how the old Lauren would have done it. That's how the new Lauren would have done it. The only difference was that to the old Lauren and the new Lauren the Glee club never mattered. To them, to all them, it was they place where they could be who they actually were. The only difference was that even there they hid from each other.

The other issue was, what if in fact, it was one or two of the Gleeks and they mattered to one of the three inside. What if it was Santana, or Finn, or Puck…? That one was for her. Oh fucking hell… what if one of them was Puck. What if he was still alive, what would she do? If she walked in to the club would he be able to pin point her; to look at her and even after every thing had changed know it was her.

She had never considered her self a coward before… she wasn't going to be one now. She walked up to the door and pulled it open…

**Quinn** felt sick to her stomach. She actually hadn't felt well since the ugly man had… done what he had done. She didn't mention it to anyone and she was even thinking about playing sicker so that she could have a couple of days off from performing. It wouldn't hurt her any. She had officer coin saved three to be exact. It was enough to keep her out of the camps for a couple of months.

She still played nice with the Russians, listening to their conversations about this and that. She knew one of them missed his dog back home. Another one was upset that he had yet to see a Corvette, and one talked about his Daughter. These were just the normal soldiers. She liked them more. They never touched her, they weren't allowed unless they had coin to give. She actually enjoyed some of them. Not to the point she would call them friends, but they treated her well.

She had gone to see Tina who was better, most of the burns had started to heal and she was being well taken care of. She had been in good sprits when Quinn walked in. She hadn't been faking like she had when she was at the club. She said that it was nice in the hospital. They even had American Doctors. Quinn smiled at that, and she said the Russian Doctors did a lot of stuff for Americans for free. Quinn wanted to cry. Tina was treating it as if this was a holiday.

At the club everyone stayed the same really. They didn't talk about their officers, but Puck had been walking around with a smug look on his face. Finn had fallen more in to prayer and Santana had gone nearly silent. She wanted to tell them what the Ugly man had done, but they had their own issues to worry about. She didn't want to worry them about such a stupid thing anyway. They were whores and that's what happens to whores. They get… What she got.

That's what her mind told her. She knew she was just rationalizing everything. She had learned about that in school too. If something like that happens… you know… your mind tries to cope with it. She figured she might tell some one when she says that he rode in a white unicorn made of paper. That would probably be her mind not being able to cope.

She had managed to maintain her cold exterior, though in her room she cried almost constantly. She had nightmares about it. She thought it was really funny that that night he hadn't hurt her much. Granted the sheer power the man possessed was terrifying. He was one of those guys you saw in the movies. That despite what they looked like was nothing but muscle and power. She had never met a guy like that before him. She knew that she wasn't as strong as a guy, but she didn't know what he was. He was just so powerful. She tried to stop him. She tried to fight, but he didn't even flinch when she fought. She could barely even move.

Then there was the blinding terror that she felt as she felt what little he had started to enter her. No condom. She wanted to insult him, but he only understood basic words in English. It would have been wasted.

However long it lasted it was too long. She knew it was only a few minutes at most. Still it felt like hours. She stopped fighting in that time. She was there the whole time though. That bullshit about leaving your body or you mind falling in on it self to protect you didn't happen to her. She felt every thing. The powerful thrust that moved her entire body, that messed up her hair. The warmth of his body that was to hot. She remembered the smell of his breath, pungent, filthy, enveloping her face. She felt the drool that carried the same smell as his breath, only lingered long after he had left.

Then his cold wet tongue that traced up and down her ear like an eager puppy. It was only a couple of minutes, but she remembered ever single, devastating second. She would have killed her self, but she figured that this was already hell and there would be no escaping him. He would follow her. He would track her down and… do it again… again … again.

She rose from the bed in her little room. The Russian woman next to her apparently had done everything in her power to get some kind of reaction. Quinn of course, being a great actress, responded accordingly even though she was numb from everything.

The woman was panting heavily sweat forming over her body. Quinn smiled at her sheepishly and then rose to take her shower. The woman would be gone when she got out, but still, she needed to escape. She wondered if the water could get as hot in this place as it did in the apartments where Tina had boiled. Maybe she could get the water that hot and have a nice little holiday at the hospital.

When she walked in to the bathroom she turned on the shower, and then suddenly threw up. She had felt fine before. In fact she hadn't thrown up since… Maybe she was actually getting sick. That would be just fine with her. Maybe it would kill her. Then she wouldn't have to look at him again. She felt weird about that, like suddenly she needed to live. She threw up again and leaned back against the shower. She really was sick. She smiled then lunged for the toilet again. She felt the bile burn her esophagus. Maybe she did feel still… Deep down she felt. He couldn't get that deep. He would never be able to get that dip again. She would make sure of that.


	17. Chapter 17

**Authors Note:** So I had a very hard time writing this one. I tried very hard to convey how they felt. This is where I feel that I lack in writing is conveying the feelings that people have. Once again this has mentions of Christianity. This is what I know, and what I feel. I am in no way trying to push my beliefs on to anyone. Most atheist I know, are better Christians than most Christians anyway.- Bad grammar. Merry Christmas, or Happy Holidays!

**Sam **set across from Brittany and Kurt as they talked about things he really didn't care about. He had gotten pretty good about being able to laugh on cue when some one said something funny and hiding what he was truly feeling.

He was fucking pissed. He wanted to be alone with Brittany just this one fucking time. He wanted to set and talk with her, make her smile, make her happy. He was all set for the things he would say to her. He had been working on it for days, then fucking Kurt shows up.

He was half tempted to tell Kurt to go fuck off, but it was Kurt. No one fucked with Kurt. Sure, Sam could handle himself alright, but Kurt killed with out mercy or sympathy. He had become terrifying. So, Sam had to just wait. He only had one more day to get Brittany. There would be no time at Sway. The plan was to get in and get out with out any one seeing or suspecting. Brittany was going to a different location where they would meet with the other resistance fighters and make their way towards Texas, Oklahoma, and Mexico. Where the home boys were, where the front lines where, where the war was truly being fought.

He could always wait though. Kurt wasn't the type to hang around people for long anymore. He seemed to enjoy spending more time with his guns then with the people around him. That was fine with Sam. Their time would come for sure.

"I was thinking that I could set explosives around the perimeter. A controlled drop of the club would effectively crush every single person in there. The problem would be setting the chargers where no one would find them and still be effective in the long run." Kurt said almost exited at the thought of blowing something up again.

"We could also just lock the doors and catch the place on fire." Brittany said with innocents that made Sam's dick harden at the sound.

"That would be too risky. Some of them might get out. However, if I could get in to the heart of the club some how before they all arrived I could set explosives under each table. The building would catch on fire because the people running around would be on fire. I would have to find a way to set up like a sprinkler system for the catalyst through. Just to make sure that napalm spread effectively."

Sam was amazed at how quickly Kurt found ways to destroy things, or even brutally kill people. He always seemed to take some ones idea and add on to it.

"Sam, what do you think?"

"Huh?" Sam he said as Brittany's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"How should we take out the club, or the people in the club?"

"I like the idea of a full on frontal assault. They wouldn't be expecting that, and from what intel said the Club owner, nor the General allow any weapons except for the two armed guards in the back. They would have no defense."

"And it could very easily get us caught or killed." Kurt responded coldly.

Sam shrugged. "That's why I'm not a strategist."

"Well, than I guess it's a good thing I'm so kick ass huh?" Lauren said as she slid in to the booth next to Sam pressing her body up against his. He smiled genuinely at her and placed his arm around her shoulder pulling closer. Before anyone could say anything Lauren spoke again.

"There is a problem with Club sway. It seems that we know some people in side. Actually from what we've got from Mike it's Mr. Shue and the rest of the Glee Club."

To Sam everything made since up too Mr. Shue. Then after that everything went blank. Lauren had sounded so calm about it, like she always did. One of her fronts that he admired but at the same time couldn't fucking stand it. When she did said or did things that showed that front he wanted to punch her in the throat.

He took note that Brittany and Kurt held probably the same look that he had. Lauren reached over and grabbed a fry, took a bite with a deep sigh and then spoke again. The front vanished before their eyes.

"We don't know which ones. For sure it's Shuster but Mike didn't let us know who else. It could be one or all of them. I wouldn't get your hopes up though. Coach said that if they're sympathizers they die with the rest. Sam saw the tears starting to form in Laurens eyes. She quickly got up and left and the three of them sat there in silences.

However, Sam's blood boiled when he heard Brittany whisper. "Santana..." He was about to reach across the table and slap her when one of the other resistance ran in.

"The Coach is gone. She left a note saying she's going to Sway."

Kurt was up over the booth before anyone could really react. Brittany was not far behind him.

"Santana…" Sam spat under his breath as he pulled himself from the booth and followed.

**TINA **lay in her bed looking at the burns on her arms. The doctor said that there would be some minor scaring in places, mostly on her legs which in the long run wouldn't be noticeable unless some one actually looked.

She was almost disappointed in the fact that she wouldn't be scared more. Sure it would have hurt her performance money, but she didn't really care about that. She wasn't going back. When she was healed they were sending her back to the reintegration home. She was going to the one in Indianapolis from what she could gather. It was just far enough away from her friends that she wouldn't have a desire to return to them, and even if she did she wouldn't have the means to do it. Nor would she get the approval to see them.

Quinn, Puck, and Finn had come to see her a lot when she was there. They didn't really have a lot to talk about. They didn't like talking about what was going on at the club. She figured it was nothing out of the ordinary, but she could tell that they were worried about all big shots of the occupation were going to be at the club. Finn had mentioned that several of them wanted to bring some of their favorite performers from clubs around the country to give more opportunities to bid.

She thought of it like in the day when they would be getting ready for sectionals or nationals for the glee club and caught wind that they were going up against really awesome groups and all their hopes and dreams had been dashed. It threw her back to a time when she was happy, when she was in love with Mike Chang, and kept the principle terrified by pretending to be a vampire.

She realized now that she hated her life. She pretended so much that she was happy where she was. She pretended that she was happy that she was surrounded by her friends, and singing and dancing. She pretended so much that the shrink said it made her go numb. It explained a lot. Why she didn't feel anything; even pain on the most extreme levels.

So she was going to go willingly back to the home and learn of the Asian way of life again. She was going to be a prim and proper lady for her Chinese husband who would beat her, or lover her. She wasn't sure. She wasn't going to pretend anymore that life was a fairy tail even in the worse ways.

She moved the blanket back from her legs and looked at them. They were still bandaged, and even though she was on pain killers she was still uncomfortable. The room had been set to a higher tempter because she was always cold, a side effect of the burns on her skin, but in the last couple of days they had lowered it. She was still cold but not shivering. They had also cut her hair so that they could tend to the burns on her head more readily. It was starting to grow back. The scars there had made some of the hair start to come back as white which she thought was pretty neat. She was kind of hoping to see what it looked like when it was long, but that would have to wait.

She liked being in the hospital. The Russians there were nice to her and smiled and talked to her. One of the nurses even brought her a stuffed animal to help keep her company. It was horribly ugly, not even cute. The nurse said she found it in the streets and took it with her because she felt sorry for it. Tina often looked at the little bear because in many ways it was like her. It was burned, the fake fur melted to its body. There were tell tail signs that it had a jubilant smile at one point, but now it looked like a sad smile, like it was pretending. She kept trying to think of ways to make it happy again. She often smiled at it hoping that it would, in return, give her a genuine smile. It never worked.

So she decided that she and the bear had the same fate of being miserable for the rest of their days. She had named him charbroil.

The other good thing about the hospital was they weren't as strict as the hospitals that she had grown use to over the years. Even though they followed the same principals of the old days they were a bit more carless. They didn't think like Americans did, they probably weren't thinking about saving money. So they would leave things lying around. Things she could use that would help her in so many ways. Like a full bottle of pain killers. She tried to give one to Charbroil but he didn't take it. So she took it for him. Then she took one for herself… Then another and then another.

She was tired now. She was happy she was tired. She was going to sleep for a very long time and she wanted that. She wasn't sure when she would wake up, or where she would wake up but she figured it couldn't be that bad.

When the nurse came in to see her Tina saw the warm smile on her face fall in to panic. Tina smiled at her the best she could. It was kind of hard to feel her face now. She held on to Charbroil for a while, but she felt him slip from her fingers and fall to the floor. She figured he had fallen asleep before she did. He was a lucky little bear.

She heard the nurse yell something and then a group of people ran in and surrounded her. She told them thank you. For a few brief seconds she felt something. The world around her felt right. She wasn't in pain, all she felt was contentment, warmth and love, and in the distance she heard singing. She always heard people say that dying was easier then being born. She didn't remember being born, but this… this was worth being born just to experience. She made a mental note to tell Finn before she fell asleep. She didn't have the chance.


	18. Chapter 18

**Authors Note: **This chapter is not going to follow the same pattern that the last chapters have. The reason for this is I plan on writing an "epic" chapter dealing with Mr. Shue. This is a some what short chapter because I really want to start the Mr. Shue chapter, and to be honest kind of not cool. One of my darker chapters I think. One again I hope I got the feelings right. Enjoy.

Calling.

There were some days, he didn't know why, when he missed being in the camp. The hunger pains for some reason he always found welcoming, and even though the cot he had was too small he still felt human. Sure Finn was still human. He was strong and independent like he always wanted to be. He was surrounded by friends, well fragments of who his friends use to be at least, and he had food and money as it were.

He wondered sometimes if it was actually Gods will that he do these things, or if it was just a way to get by. He of course never thought about stuff like this when he was on stage, or when he was in the back rooms. He only thought like this every now and then. He was hiding pain and sorrow. He was trying to find a way to get around the horribleness that was in the here and now. It felt alright. He didn't mind it so much. The warm body laying delicately on his back as he thrust himself in and out of Finn with tenderness and care. Finn also kind of liked it how sometimes he would hold his hand when it was going on. They both knew what it was. They needed some kind of connection again. Something that made them feel human, loved perhaps.

After all he was his best friend and had gotten him out of some pretty tough scraps back in the day. He figured the attraction had always been there or maybe it had just started to grow. Still, when Will arrive in the nights with that dark, lost look in his eyes, Finn was more then happy to help him.

Finn asked him several times why he didn't go to one of the girls. Will would just smile at him and say that he didn't know. Finn didn't know either. He didn't like how the whole thing started, but Will always seemed to be happier afterwards. The fake smile almost seemed real when he was walking around the club with the bottle of water in his hand doing the standard meet and greet.

Finn deep down inside didn't like it. It made him sick to him stomach that it was Will who was fucking him like this. Or sometimes it was him fucking Will. Finn of course new that he was trying to rationalize what was going on but he still couldn't figure it out. There was no compassion, no nothing, when they did it. It was just another day on the job, and free be which he never ever did.

He didn't like the way his breath felt on the back of his neck, or the way his legs rested so warm, and snug around his waste some times. He just didn't like it. It was wrong and he knew it. They were both adults and Finn could have told him no, but Will needed something and if he had to come to Finn to get it than he was going to have to be okay with it, because Will saved them from the camps. He brought them together again the best he could. He did everything to make sure they were all safe. Finn owed this to him. They all did. Santana, Puck, Mercedes, Quinn. They all owed him this… whatever it was.

Will, like he was in school was like a father figure to them all. He mentored them, he rehearsed with them, and he ate with them, and for all intensive purposes loved them. He was their light house he kept them safe if they would start to go astray, he always did. He was the voice of reason, and humility. The voice whispering in his ear "you feel so good." Finn took in a deep breath trying to hold back whatever emotion he was feeling whatever strange feeling he had. He couldn't help it. Will moaned into his ear quietly, he would say things that no father would say to a son, but Finn wasn't his son was he. It didn't matter what he thought of Will. He just wasn't his father. Yet in so many ways he was, and it was just wrong to have your father saying "does it feel good?" when he was being too quite, or if Will wasn't sure if he was hurting him or not.

Then when he would be the one to fuck Will and listening to him moan and become almost fragile under his touch, and demand that Finn fuck him hard. Finn wanted to cry sometimes, but he never did. Finn wanted to stop but he couldn't. Will needed something and this must have been it. Finn could deal with it. He had been through worse, but that made him wonder and Will thrust deeply inside of him, why would miss being in the camps when Will came calling.


	19. Chapter 19

**Authors Note:** This has been running through my head for so long that I almost wanted to skip my normal format and jump right to it. I'm kind of glad I didn't because it gave me time to work everything out in my head. I hope you enjoy it. Hopefully it will shed some light on why Will thought that it would be better for all the kids to whore themselves out. This also screws up the time line; however I will weave it all together in the end. So for the next couple of chapters there is going to be a time stamp on the start of the chapters so you can see what took place first, middle, last and everything in between. This chapter is also long for me. I once again don't know how well it's done so please review! Enjoy.

PS The chapter dealing with Tina will also be considered in this day. However, I didn't plan it working like this… so my bad.

December 30th 01:25 hours 2014

Will always felt a little sick to his stomach after being with Finn and he knew why he did it. The funny thing about it was that he was still straight. He still found woman attractive, and even from time to time indulged himself with a few of the Russian women who came in to the club, or even some of the American women that weren't taken by the Russians already. Finn though, Finn represented something that he wanted to be intimate with. Finn was the one who had changed the least out of the kids. He was the one that held strongly to hope, and some how always found the beautiful side of this fucked up life that they had found themselves in.

Innocent wouldn't be the right word, but maybe it was something buried a little deeper. He couldn't put his finger on it, but Finn, when he was with him, he felt that hope, saw the beauty and for the time he was there, he was happy.

Hiding Rachael and Artie, though it seemed almost impossible as the two always seemed to pop up at the most inopportune moments, was his primary concern. If anyone, even the kids saw them it would be… disastrous. How he had managed to do it this long was beyond him. Even when Artie followed them to the hospital for Tina, he hid him. He didn't know how, but they made it out with out anyone seeing, or hearing him. He had gotten good at that. The Russians of course didn't seem either of them either. Rachael never left the club. She was to easily noticeable. She would catch attention and as always she would draw it to herself. He managed to keep them both clean and fed. He talked to them to help keep their sprits up, and would tell them about what was going on. Artie knew that he couldn't be one of the performers, and Will knew that if the Russians had no use for him, then he would disappear and Will couldn't have that. Rachael would no doubt become one of his top performers, but that was out of the question. She was, as stupid as it sounded to him, the last superstar.

Then of course he had to deal with the Russians coming in and out of the club, he had to protect his kids the best he could, and if that meant doing what he did, then he would do it over and over again. They were alive, well, most of them, and that was all he could hope for. The ones he had he was going to hold on to for dear life. He was doing everything in his power to make sure that when it was said and done they would be integrated back in to what ever society was being formed. Puck, the bad boy, was probably going to get it the best. The general had taken a strong liking to him, and if it wasn't for Pucks pride he probably would be living in a mansion right now being treated as if he were a king.

Mercedes was his main worry. He knew why they didn't bid on her, and he couldn't bring himself to tell her. They were Racists fucks what the Russians were. Still, he kept trying. Someone would bid on her. One person was all it was going to take. He knew Mercedes and she would enchant any man who bid on her. He was just hoping that just one would take that.

Quinn, well, she had men that would gladly take her away, as did Santana. Finn didn't have a regular so to speak. He was fair game, but he could keep Finn with him. He could watch over him and protect him until Finn found a young woman to call his own.

He walked in to his office throwing his jacket over the back of the chair. He rubbed his eyes that burned with exhaustion, but he had work to do. He had to keep the club stocked and ready for the massive gathering of power.

Some of the others from around the occupation area were being performers of their own, to share the wealth as it were. He was worried about that because his performers might be over shadowed. He had been in contact with one of the Club owners in Maine… claimed to have one former celebrity in his club. His kids could hold their own against many of the performers before the war, and even now, but still. If a former superstar walked in to his club than he might as well pack up his things and go back to the camp with the Kids because they won't even go out on stage. If they did, than they would be so intimidated that they wouldn't perform right.

He sank down in the brown leather chair. He groaned slightly and reached over for the lamp setting on his desk. He clicked it on, and as his eyes adjusted to the light… as it cascaded across the room he saw her. She was standing in the corner, as intimidating as always, only know she held a gun and every thought that it was going to be the end of him passed through his head. Still he couldn't stop looking at her and feeling some since of dread, of happiness and jubilation. She was there, in front of him. It wasn't a dream it wasn't a nightmare. It was both.

"Hiya Will."

He knew she spoke, but he couldn't understand what she had said. It was in his mind of course, he knew what she said, but it didn't compute.

"Beiste? Shannon Beiste?" His voice sounded small to him now. She was always massive, a brute of woman, but she seemed so much larger now. She seemed so much more in control and powerful, even more so than he remembered.

He smiled at her and started to push himself out of the chair, however the beefy hands holding the gun tightened and her arm tensed as if ready to pull the trigger. He didn't need to be told not to move. He had been held at gun point more times then he liked to remember.

"Just stay there Will, keep your hands on the desk." She said her voice quietly booming in the small office. He eased himself back down in to the chair doing as he was told. The jubilation of seeing her again quickly deteriorated.

He looked in her eyes, and the warmth and sympathy he remembered was still there, still ever present. There was something more though. She had the look of a killer, of some one who even if she didn't want to, didn't have a problem unleashing the bullet that was clearly aimed for his brain. She looked sad, older, and clearly a heart beat away from crying.

"What… what are you doing here?" He asked. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was certain that hers was too.

She hesitated before she spoke, "I… I don't know. I just needed to see if it was true."

"You wanted to see if what was true?"

"If you were alive, if kids where still alive, if you… you were traitor."

The last word suddenly made everything make sense and he knew why she was holding a gun to his head, and why she was there. The Russians executed a member of the resistance in the middle of the street. The last words she spat at every one was 'You're all traitors."

"You're part of the resistance." In that instance, that split second of realization a new path for his kids, his performers opened up. There was another way for them to make it, or even die trying. Still, it was a different option. Some one could protect them better then he could. They could teach them to fight and to give them a chance to do something… anything besides what he had made them do.

He stood from his desk in excitement and The Coach took a step back, but he didn't even realize it. He didn't care. She could scatter his brains and shit on his dead corpse for all he cared, but she was going to help them. Before she shot him, before he died he needed to say it. The words flew from his mouth with such force that tears fell from his eyes.

"Shannon you have to get them out of here! You have to help them! Take them with you please!"

Her mouth slightly fell open, and she lowered the gun as her eyes filled with that sympathy, compassion, and love that he remembered. She didn't say anything, but just stared at him. She looked in to his soul, he felt it, and all he could do was cry and utter once again.  
>"Please."<p>

Still she didn't responded and he fell back in his chair. He wasn't crying from sadness, but from joy. It was going to be over soon. She could get his kids out, and he would gladly hang for it. He would be more than happy to let them do whatever they wanted to him. It wouldn't matter. They would be safe, and away from all that he had caused them. No more fucking the enemy, no more singing for their amusement. They would be out of the life, and in to one that he knew was easier.

His hands covered his eyes and he sobbed, he cried so very hard. He didn't know for how long, but when she spoke her voice was soothing, and if not understanding, it was consoling.

"Why Will? Why become a sympathizer?"

He looked up at her in shock. It was an answer that should have been so clear, so perfectly clear. Why had he become a sympathizer? He did it for them. He didn't care if he died in that camp, he didn't want them to die. He did it for them. She should have seen that. She knew these kids, she knew him. She knew how much he cared for them.

"I did it for them. They told me that I could open a club, and I could chose performers from the camps. So I found them, and I brought them here, to keep them as safe as I could."

The gun was now hanging limply at her side and she sat down in the chair across from him. The wooden desk was all that separated them. He could see her more clearly now, and he smiled at her. She didn't smile back, but he did see her mouth twitch as if she wanted too. She was happy to see him at least.

"Will, how many of them? How many do you have?"

"Finn, Mercedes, Puck, Quinn, Tina and Santana. They were all I could find." Will said with his heart breaking.

Beiste smiled at him just ever so slightly. Tears were starting to well up in her eyes and her voice broke slightly when she spoke.

"Sam, Mike, Lauren, Kurt and Brittany… They've been fighting in the resistance. They've been doing a hell of a job of it too. They took to it like water takes to a Giraffe."

The news that the rest of his kids were still alive and the trade mark of Shannon screwing up phrases that everyone used regularly made him laugh. The first time he had done it in a long time.

"All of them? They're all still alive?" Will asked, his hope mounting by the second.

"Well, we had a close call with Kurt about a year ago. I took a bullet to the thigh carrying him out. But yeah… all alive."

He sat back in the chair and smiled up to the sky. He couldn't help but let more tears fall and laugh a bid. Shannon still smiled at him, even chuckled a little bit. He knew she was glad that they others were alive. She was glad that everything had worked out kind of. Now, he knew that she was going to take them away and he could get a good nights sleep for once, with out the help of his American Whiskey.

"I can't believe this! They're still alive." He felt like jumping up in the air, but he kept his cool the best he could. Yet its funny how a simple sentence can destroy a good mood, a happy moment that he hadn't felt in so long was fleeting. He couldn't blame her for saying it. She was happy too. She was trying to bring a little bit more hope in to the situation.

"Now, we'll just find Artie and Rachael and you have a full house."

His laughter failed him, his smile shattered in to a dull, lost expression. He caught himself though. He looked passed Beiste to the back of the room where the two of them had snuck in to the room. Beiste saw his eyes move and turned and looked back, then slowly turned back towards him.

"You won't find them." Will said as he still looked at the two at the back of the room. Artie gave him that confident, yet sad smile, and Rachael pulled her hair back from her ear and lowered her head to hide the fact that she was crying.

Beiste moved her head slowly to the side, and closed her eyes. She placed the gun in her lap and when she opened her eyes, Will was, at least to her, still staring off in to nothingness.

"What happened?" She said.

He lightly smiled at them, and didn't bother to look at Beiste. He just kept looking at them.

"We were in the same camp. It was just south of here. It was just the three of us, we didn't know anyone else. No one for Lima was there. I protected them the best that I could, but still there was only so much I could do.

They were going to kill Artie the first day. They didn't have need for a cripple. He was worthless to them, I tried to stop it from happening, but they broke my leg when I tried to. It was Rachael who saved him first then me. She was so charming, and persuasive. She convinced the camp overseer that Artie could be used as a mule of sorts," Will laughed when he said that, "He could wheel stuff across the yard, pull the food cart… haul the dead bodies. She said all he would need was some gloves so that it wouldn't ruin his hands. Then she said that even though I had a broken leg I was a very good teacher, and she insisted that I teach the Russians 'proper' English until my leg was better.

After that, they worked them both to the brink of death. Arties upper body had become massive, but they barely fed him, and just for fun would hit his legs as hard as they could; amazed that he couldn't even feel the pressure of it. They broke the legs of a cripple boy just to do it.

Then… then they… they cut out Rachael's tongue because she talked and sang too much. Oh God Shannon. All those times I wish she just would have shut the fuck up in class, and after they did that she never made another sound, and I have regretted those thoughts ever since."

Will wiped his eyes as he tried to get control of his sobbing. Beiste never said a word. She just stared at him dumbfounded as he continued.

"After that we knuckled down and started to work harder. We made up games to play with each other when we in the barracks." Will smiled a bit. "Rachael got pretty good at playing charades. He looked at Rachael as she smiled at him

We had each other through it all, and we became so close. Artie and Rachael use to write to each other in the dirt. _They_ became close to each other. I would talk to Rachael, but Artie, he never would. He would always write to her, they even made up their own version of sign language. They would curl up next to each other to keep warm, and Rachael would wake me up every morning by tugging on my pinky. It was nice in a way. We struggled through everything together. We pushed Artie at the end of the day because he was so tired. We were like a little messed up family ya know?

Then Artie broke his arm when his chair tipped over. Naturally we rushed to his aid, but the Russians assured us that they would take care of him and told us to go back to work. We did, and about twenty minutes later they called us all to the tank. The tank was where we kept a huge supply of water to keep the furnaces for exploding."

Will stopped talking at that moment and looked at Artie who was looking at him so sweetly, and he just smiled and nodded as if telling him that it was okay to keep going. Rachael reached over and grabbed Arties hand and straightened her self up like a star getting ready to go on stage.

"We all gathered around, and the wheeled Artie up to the tank still holding his arm, they hadn't even bothered to fix it. The overseer made a speech about something… then… they pushed him in. The tank had a window in it… and… oh god… I could see him trying to swim with is only arm. He looked so scared. So afraid and I just watched… I didn't even notice that Rachael had started to run for the tank… I… heard the gun shots… and she fell… and Artie pounded on the window… I didn't do anything… I DIDN'T DO A FUCKING THING!"

Will stood from the desk and punched the wall leaving a hole in the dry wall. The blood dripped from his hands and he turned took look back at the two of them, but they were gone.

"I can't let that happen again Shannon. I had to find them, every one of them I could. I couldn't let it happen."

The Coach stayed silent for a moment. Tears falling from her eyes betrayed the cold hard stare she was managing. Will was thankful for that. He was thankful that she was letting him gather his thoughts. Then she spoke to him.

"Well then… I think it's time we kicked a little ass."


	20. Chapter 20

Sorry for the long wait on this. I lost my job and have been very actively trying to find a new one. On top of that my computer died on me and left me without any of my stories. For some reason I can't really get my spell check and grammar to work on this computer, so if I have more errors than usual please be kind. My fingers sometimes work faster than my brain.

Like I said in the previous chapter I'm going to have time stamps of everything that has happened. There is also going to be a new line up for the stories. Because the only order I can remember without my main computer is Brittany Santana, and then Will at the end. So since I ended with will I will start with Brittany. So in this chapter I plan on showing the much darker side of Brittany and just some mindless violence. I'll leave it at that. I hope you all enjoy and Bored and Sal. I know it's been a while. I hope you didn't abandon me!

December 30th 0017 hours

Brittany was fairly content setting in the back of the bus they had stolen to get to Club Sway. They'd been working on their cover story of how they were crossing the border in to Ohio… Or whatever the Russian designation for it was. She looked around the bus and saw the group of resistance fighters posing as the sympathizers. Pretty much anyone who was in their resistance group who could sing was on the bus. It was only a handful, but still it was a substantial force.

Kurt sat quietly beside her, Sam on the other side of the bus with Lauren sleeping soundly on his shoulder, Mike hadn't been heard from since his last and with The Coach going AWAL they were kind of winging it. They had one person driving the bus posing as the "Club Owner" and a Chinese guy setting in an officer uniform looking slightly uncomfortable in his new role. He couldn't speak Chinese and was terrified that someone would notice. None of them spoke Russian.

They had been driving for hours. By Brittany's guess The Coach had a good two to three hour head start on them, meaning that if she hadn't gotten caught she should be in Akron by now. They might be going to see old friends that they might have to kill… Killing Mr. Shue was not on her top to do list.

"We got a check point coming up. I think we're at the boarder." The "Owner" said getting everyone's attention quickly. Brittany felt her body tense up and she wasn't sure what to expect. They had put all their equipment in the truck that was going to cross in to the state without actually taking any roads. They weren't worried about random check points this far in to the occupation area and doubted that the truck would be noticed at all driving through a field.

The brakes on the bus squealed as it came to a stop and the door slide open. Watching the barrel of a gun peeking through was enough to cause almost all of them to stand up and want to fight, but they had to keep their cool. Brittany looked down at Kurt's hands which were rubbing diligently on his pants. She didn't think she had a tell like that, but if she did, it must have been really good for her not to notice it.

A Russian soldier stepped on to the bus and looked down at the group of 8 people, then looked at the guy playing Chinese solider boy. He nodded and then looked at the driver.

"What is your purpose here?" The Chinese officer stood up and approached. His accent wasn't nearly as good as Mike's but it would do.

"You will address me." The Chinese guy said with a hint of authority but still professional. The Russian squared her shoulders almost in defiance, but then noticed the medal on the uniform and realized that it belonged to the elite force of the Chinese, Provided of course, by Yoto.

"Yes, of course." The Russian said in perfect English with only a hint of an accent. "What are you doing here?"

"These are the performers that have been requested. You should have been informed of our arrival."

The Russian looked down the bus with slight awe and then smiled a bit.

"Yes, we were, we just weren't expecting you until tomorrow morning."

"It is morning." The Chinese officer said with a hint of sarcasm and mocking undertones. It was of course the roll he was supposed to play.

The Russian ignored his comments and started to walk down the isle of the bus looking over the resistance fighters. They had all be cleaned up and dressed nicely. The girls wore makeup, the boy's hair combed and washed. Brittany was proud she remembered how to do it.

"So these are the best of the best?" The solider turned to address the Chinese poser.

"Yes."

The Russian looked around and smiled a bit, then looked at Brittany and approached slowly. She smiled sweetly at him, and then reached out to touch her face. Her skin crawled when he made contact and she lightly put her foot to Kurt's telling him to relax. 

"You're going to have some competition beautiful. I've been to Club Sway. The performers there are quite breathe taking."

"A little competition brings out the best in people."

The Russian smiled at her and nodded then turned quickly to the Poser.

"I'm afraid our orders are to not let anyone in until designated hours. I'm sure you understand. I apologize for the lack of accommodations, but you'll have to stay on the bus until your scheduled time. I'll be kind enough to let the performers leave the bus to walk around. I'm sure you've been stuck in this tub for a while."

The poser just simply nodded.

The Russian then quickly turned around to address the Performers.

"You will only be allowed off the bus one at a time. One of you one of us. We will start at the back and move our way forward. Ladies first." He said as he smiled at Brittany. She hesitated for a moment and looked over at Sam whose eyes were filled with caution, but she still smiled sweetly and stood up and started to walk towards the front of the bus. Her heels making an ungodly loud sound as she walked. She wasn't use to the noise. She had trained herself to move quietly. This was not quite.

The Russian smiled at her and then started towards the front of the bus. He looked at the Poser. "Of course you may leave the bus whenever you wish."

Brittany walked passed him and she felt something small and medal be put in to her hand by the Poser. She knew what it was instantly and quickly shoved it in to her bra before the Russian turned around to looked at her. It was a small knife. It wasn't threatening in anyway, but it wasn't something that a performer would have. She knew what it was for. It was for her defense.

"You will behave accordingly!" The Poser shouted at her. She nodded knowing that it was meaning to protect yourself by any means necessary.

When she stepped off the bus she instantly stretched. Her back popped in a couple of places and despite her best effort her breast seemed to perk up more when she stretched.

She took a deep breath smelling the air which surprisingly smelled fresh and she even remember it. It smelled like home.

"I'll walk you around the check point." The Russian said as he held out his hand and let her walk in front of him.

If she didn't know any better she would have thought her ass was on fire only because she knew the commie fuck was looking at it. She didn't like to think of people like that, but this guy wasn't exactly being the "nice" Russian that they had met at the old woman's house. He was the reason that she was fighting.

She had gotten accustom to fighting the Chinese. Russians fought differently so she wasn't sure if they would make it out if something happened. She also knew that they needed to get in to Ohio to save the coach. She realized that she was a decoy again. She did a quick scan of the check point. There were 7 guards all looking at her. She could tell they didn't get out much. AK 47s slung over their shoulders, and the standard issue hand gun that she could never remember the name of.

"Must get pretty lonely out here for you guys huh?" She said as she looked up at noticed all the stars.

"We're on a standard duty rotation. Effective, but it can get a bit boring.

"I bet. My friends and I use to play games when we would get bored. I was really good at one called Trivia. Like one of the questions was "What group do Dolphins belong to?" She turned around and looked at him.

"Mammal."

"No, the Gay Shark Group. They have meetings all the time." She said. She still believed that Dolphins were just gay sharks but she also learned that they were in fact mammals.

One of the Russian guards said something in Russian, and the man following her responded. She noticed that when Russians spoke in their native words that they were forceful and loud. As if they had two different voices. She also noticed that he smiled when he said the words. It was a dark evil smile.

"What did he say?" Brittany asked with a smile.

"He just wanted to know what was going on."

When she looked back at the guards they were all smiling and seemed to be congratulating each other.

"Why don't we go back here? I'll so you the check point. "

She looked back at the bus and flipped her hair. It was a sign to the rest of them that something bad was going to go down and to wait for her signal.

She followed the Russian to the back of the guard shack and noticed that it was out of the light and line of sight of the others. She knew that Sam and Kurt were probably beside themselves right now not being able to see her, but they knew that it would be a death sentence if they moved or did something.

"Why are we back here?" She asked knowing damn well why they were back there.

"You're going to perform for me." He said. "Free of charge. Think of it as a toll." He pulled the AK off of his shoulder and laid it up against the back of the building. Then he undid his belt, taking the service gun off his hip and setting it aside.

Brittany took a step back and started to shake her head.

"I can't. We were told that only officers would get the performance. They'll punish me for it."

"You're a whore. You're an American and you're on our side of the country now. As far as you're concerned I'm the damn President."

He walked up to her and she didn't move and he started to kiss at her neck. She moved her hands to his shoulders and said.

"Sorry, I voted for the other guy."

There was a brief pause as he pulled away to look at her with either amusement or rage but she didn't have time to register it. She slammed both of her hands on his ears instantly throwing off his balance. As he stumbled backwards she swung hard with her right hand connecting at his jaw. He let out a grunt and fell to the ground disoriented. She started to make for the AK when he swung his foot around connecting and she fell to the ground hard. She felt a rock crash in to her ribs and she bit back a yell; cursing under her breath.

The Russian moved quickly and was pulling himself on top of her. She could smell the body odder of a day's work and while he was clean she still thought it disgusting. She brought her right hand up again, and he blocked it, but she was expecting that and hit the side of his neck with a hard chop from her left hand then brought took her right palm and hit him square in the nose. The angle they were laying at was awkward and normally it would have killed him, however now he just had a broken nose. She thought that was going to be in the end of it, but he brought his full weight down, his elbow sinking deep in to her abdomen almost causing the air to be expelled from her lungs. He was on his feet before she could recover and he literally picked her up and slammed her in to the back of the building.

He was trying to pin her down, but she was moving too quickly for him, and she brought her knee up and dug into his thigh as hard as she could. As he started to fall back she pushed him away cause him to add one or two feet to the distance between them. He started to come for her again and she threw her foot forward in a thrust kick. The man simply stopped her he was and when her foot came down she could feel the cold wet grass beneath her toes.

The Russian looked down and stared at the shoe sticking out of his rib cage. Blood slowly started to trickle out of his mouth and he looked back at her with the look of a man who was dyeing and didn't know it.

"Courtesy of the resistance." She said and then punched the shoe sending the heel deeper in to his body. He fell to his knees and then toppled over dead.

She looked at him for a brief second then grabbed the AK and hand gun pulling it out of her holster. She pulled out the little blade that the Poser had given her and looked around the corner. The Russians were standing near the bus eagerly anticipating her return so they could pick their own performers for free. She whistled for one of the Russians, which was also the single for the ones on the bus to know that something bad had happened.

Her hair was a mess and her clothes were disheveled but she knew that didn't matter. All he would know was that she was calling him. He looked back and his friends and they smiled at him and pushed him towards her. The prospect of a three some running through his head. She quickly ducked behind the building and waited for him. He came around she covered his mouth and drove the knife deep in to his neck. She felt his Adams Apple cut in two and he fell dead at her feet. She wiped a bit of drool that had fallen from her mouth. She had four guns.

She looked back at the bus and saw the back door swing open slowly and she held up two fingers meaning she only had enough guns for two of them. She was going to be the decoy so she didn't want to take the AK's. The hand guns would be good enough. She rounded the building on the other side with the two hand guns, and smiled thinking to herself.

"_Sam and I should name this one 'Booth.'" _And pulled the triggers of the two hand held guns


End file.
